Why would I lie? I have nothing to gain from fluffing your ego or kissing your ass, I'm just telling you what you've always suspected but rarely dared to admit. You don't seem to pay attention to the blur of possibilities that swirl about you when I'm not around, like how this music is wrapping its arms around your hips and gently nudging and----see, there you go, you never noticed how good this song is, but when you sway just...like...this...it's fantastic, isn't it? You worry too much, and when you stop worrying, you move very gracefully. I'm not the only one noticing, either---I've been talking to those two at the bar, and they've definitely been paying attention. And why shouldn't they, you're beautiful, and as you saw in the bathroom mirror, you look fabulous tonight, though you shouldn't need me to tell you that. But I will, reminding you that the snug fit of that shirt makes it worth the money, and how you're funnier than you usually give yourself credit for, and how anyone in this room would be lucky to hear your whispers in their ear. It's true, and at this moment, you know it's true---in fact, now that you're paying attention, it seems obvious, doesn't it? I'm not trying to fluff your ego, I'm just gin. I just want you to be happy.