Gunnar: “Okay, help me understand why you’re acting this way.”

Eva: “You couldn’t possibly grasp my needs. You’re a man, I’m a woman. Different worlds.”

Gunnar: “Really? So my ownership of a penis precludes me from any value in this relationship?”

Eva: “Essentially. You willfully choose not to understand my needs and desires.”

Gunnar: “I didn’t choose anything. I simply walked into the room and found you standing here, truculent. By the way, are you aware that you’re wearing a tiara of some sort, a bit of headgear that was never mentioned during our courtship or the pre-nup that we both signed?”

Eva: “Oh, you’re a fine one to talk about what might be going on with one’s head. Why do you do that with your hair? It looks like you’re heading out for cocktails with Hannibal Lecter.”

Gunnar: “But I always wear my hair like this. You can’t expect me to change now.”

Eva: “Why not? I’ve certainly changed for you.”

Gunnar: “Not that I’ve noticed. You’re still just as exasperating as the day I met you at the debutante ball.”

Eva: “That’s precisely what I mean, the not noticing. We met before then, at summer camp.”

Gunnar: “Summer camp? Look, I’m sure you have a point, so could we get directly to what that might be without all the melodrama? I’m late for a meeting.”

Eva, taking a drag off the small cigar that we hadn’t really noticed until now: “Fine. Just so you’ll stop being so obtuse, I’ll tell you the whole story. Once upon a time, many years ago, in a small village outside of Bjorkville, there was a little boy who dreamed of being a princess. His name was Evan.”

Gunnar paused briefly and then pulled his phone out of his pocket, punching a number: “Hello, Hannibal? Something’s come up. Can we reschedule for tomorrow night? Oh, and that thing we’ve talked about? I owe you five bucks.”