Who’s there?”
“The scratcher of your itch,” he said.
She opened the door a crack and stuck her nose out. “Was that supposed to be romantic?

Sounds like you kids have some talking to do. I'll be eavesdropping from the kitchen.

There was a group of fans who wanted autographs, and several women who managed to write their phone numbers on Wade's hand before he pulled free.
Sam sent him an arched brow, but he just shrugged. He got numbers written on him a lot; he'd never figured out how to stop that from happening.

I want you to know, chickens aren’t sexy. Not to me.”
This was met with silence.
“Are you there?” She was slurring her words now, which was embarrassing, so she took a deep breath. “Cam? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, chickens aren’t sexy. Uh…I don’t think they’re meant to be.

If I looked like him,” Tara said. “I’d want to have sex with myself. All the time.

Sorry,” he said. “Let me drop the belt-"
“No.” She held on when he would have pulled away. “Don’t. I like it.”
Again, he lifted her face, and he smiled. “The tool belt turns you on.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and thunked her forehead to his chest. “Little bit.