"Oh, stop, fantastic rack? I just threw it together," Jack pretend to fawn before he shrugged a bare shoulder, "I can wait, Greg. I can be surprisingly patient, actually."
Looking around the room as he sipped at his drink carefully (he had worked hard on that lipstick), Jack sighed, "Lord. You are prettier by far than every one in this room, bar me, darling. Where have all the queens of old gone? I recall once," And he got into a story telling stance here, because one had to when telling a good story, "In school, spending an evening with two ladies named Sam and Joe and goodness, were they ever classy! I mean, not slap and dash as we are, but real marvels. You wouldn't be able to tell until Sam had you against the men's loo wall and Joe was cursing over how hard it was to get off your trousers, they were so tight..." Jack trailed off, sipping at his drink again with a nostalgic smile.