Work Text:
*ring*
*click*
"..."
"He didn't laugh. Not once."
"Mmmph?"
"I mean, is that a British thing?"
"Mmmmph?"
"Is it a contract you sign when you get your citizenship papers that says 'I will not laugh at jokes I've written even if they're being read by a charming, strapping American actor with oodles of talent?' If it's a state secret, I promise I won't tell anyone."
"Strapping?"
"Well, you know, colloquially."
"Bobbie, he's 71 years old."
"So?"
"Not dead. Nobody says "strapping" these days. Unless they're Stephen."
"I bet Stephen laughs at his own jokes."
"..."
"Sorry, that was a bit rude, wasn't it?"
"Just a bit."
"Sorry. Sorry. Only... I suppose it couldn't have been that I sucked that terribly, since he didn't laugh at any of them. Rather flat."
"Perhaps he was tired. Anyone can understand that."
"What, because he's 71?"
"Or because he was up late cavorting with dewy-eyed ingenues, being feted by lithe, adoring fans."
"..."
"Bobbie?"
"Your imagination is fertile today. Am I interrupting something?"
"Heh. No. It is rather easy to shock you, though."
"Well, he's 71 years old!"
"So? Neither you nor I are precisely spring chickens, and yet we manage to get up to plenty. Remember that time with the stethoscope?"
"..."
"Are you blushing, Bobbie?"
"I wish you wouldn't call me that."
"Heh. Sorry."
"No, you're not."
"You're right - I'm not in the slightest. Now, what was the question?"
"Is it a British thing, not laughing at your own jokes? I mean, you don't watch the show. Well, I don't watch the show, either, but I don't watch because I've got better things to do, whereas you don't watch out of some twisted... something."
"That's not Britishnes, Bobbie; it's neurosis."
"..."
"..."
"Sorry."
"Shut up. You needn't apologize all the time. There are better uses-"
"You've used that joke before."
"But it's still true. You've got a fabulous mouth."
"..."
"Blushing again, eh? Delightful."
"Hugh..."
"Heh. Listen, I've got to get back. When's your flight due? I'll meet you if I can."
"It's a red-eye."
"Mmm. Sorry, then."
"S'okay. I can't sleep on planes anyway, so, you know, neither I nor my mouth will be good for anything without some sleep anyway."
"Can't have that."
"I'm sure. Alright--"
"Wait. Robert..."
"Yeah?"
"I'm sure you did fine. You really are very talented."
"I... thanks."
"... Tomorrow, then."
"See you then."
*click*