There Will Be No Talking.

M: Listen. You are probably going to tell me about his teeny girly voice. Or something. But I just saw these pictures and they made me so stupid it took me ten minutes and some deep breathing to type these sentences.

A: Um, Beckham is for looking, not for talking. Shush pretty man.

M: I actually cannot think of anything that isn't dirty right now.

A: In that second photo he looks like he's trying to remember his own name. I don't even care.

M: Where I am, he doesn't need a name. Or thoughts.

A: He maybe needs to know my name, though. For whispering.

M: What did we say about the talking? His whisper sounds like a balloon deflating.

A: Growling? Can he growl? By that, I mean, can he pitch his voice low enough?

M: It just sounds like a tambourine.

A: Can he just be naked and quiet?

...wait. Yes he can.

M: YES.

M: I think we are back at the beginning now.

A: I can't think of one non-filthy thing to say. Not one.

M: dgnjapooruyh9q358yh0qghnfdo

M: Blerg

M: nerp

A: swauutimsaaaaaaayyin

M: I just.

A: Rih?

M: G.

A: Brur.

***Later***

A: I guess I should just post a link to the underwear photos? They are really NSFW.

M: This is true. Though workplaces should really be more David Beckham In His Underwear-friendly.

A: I KNOW RIGHT.