Pour moi, une bière rousse, peut-être une Bulldog si vous en avez une, et du fish and chips avec un peu de sel et de vinaigre. Pour le garçon, des nachos avec du guacamole et du cheddar fondu, pas de bacon s'il vous plaît, car il est végétarien, des frites avec du ketchup et une Golden Ale.

Gianni, I swear, you make me feel like a crude imbecile compared to you.

You are nothing like a crude imbecile, darling: you are simply rustic, as befits your species.

Oh well, I'm definitely not a groundhog.

You say? I assure you that the optical illusion on the snow, with those furs, was perfect.

I didn't understand what you ordered: I got as far as the nachos, but then I got lost.

I ordered the only dish on the menu that would be good for a little vegetarian rat: nachos, the typical Tex-Mex corn chips, good but a little cheap, accompanied by a fondue of cheddar, an excellent hard English cheese, and guacamole, a Mexican sauce made with avocado, lime juice, salt and green chili pepper. Otherwise you would have left here with an almost empty belly, honey, which for a twenty-year-old six feet tall boy who has been skiing all afternoon is not the best.

Fabulous, Gianni! I can't wait to taste all that stuff.

And nothing, you are really Alice.

Can't I be the Cheshire Cat?

No love, because the Cheshire Cat is someone who knows a lot, and you, on the other hand, are so candid that you scare me.

Candid?

Come on, eat.

This stuff is delicious, especially the sauce.

I'm happy: I see you eat like a little wolf.

People are starting to dance.

I see, honey: and let them dance. After all, we are at a disco.

Don't you like to dance?

Not too much. I liked it a little, once.

I'm still thirsty: I'll order another beer.

It's already the third.

Maybe it's the nachos: they were a little salty.

Luckily you don't suffer from prostatitis little mouse.

Oh no, it's a bit early for those ailments.

Lucky you.

It's full of Italians in here, judging from the conversations I hear.

Yes, the Deux-Alpes are a very popular destination for Italian skiers.

Gianni, do you hear? They're playing our song.

Ours in what sense?

It was playing on the radio that day we had a fight and then you came back looking for me.

Oh yeah, that time. I was a little out of control.

But then you said some lovely things to me. Let's go dancing?

No, darling, I'm not coming to dance. You go if you want.

Gianni, please… Don't let me pull you.

And you don't pull me!

I ask you please.

Do you care that much?

So much. This song moves something inside me.

I think it's the three beers that get you moving, honey. All right, if you really want to I'll get on the dance floor, but woe betide you if you laugh at me.

I would never laugh at you, Gianni. Come on, come on.

(They dance)

Put more effort into it, Gianni: this rhythm requires more work from the hips and pelvis… Like this, you see?

Boy, everyone is looking at you, I don't know if you realize: you are so sexy that it almost disgusts.

It's not sexy, it's just that this is how you dance this thing. Come on, try it yourself: push your hips to the side and rotate them.

Oh listen, this rhythm inspires me to something completely different.

And what inspires you?

Something like that.

(He starts dancing with flamenco-like movements, clapping his hands. Emmanuel laughs amusedly)

Come on, you're fantastic: a kind of flamenco!

Yes, more like that.

It's great, it fits the rhythm very well. I'll try it too.

(The people around start laughing and making comments in Italian.)

Hey, look at those two!

Yes, I've been watching them for ten minutes.

A little gay, huh?

Oh, but just a little bit. Just look at how they move.

The old faggot is trying hard, huh? Come on old man, move your ass more, you're a little stiff.

(Suddenly Emmanuel stops dancing and quickly goes to the edge of the dance floor, grabbing the guy who spoke by the collar.)

Say it again, asshole, if you dare.

What the fuck do you want?

Old faggot to whom? Apologize or I'll smash your face in, you piece of shit.

Hey, calm down!

Apologize to him, Giorgio, you better: this guy is six foot three and he means business.

Okay, sorry. What the fuck, you can't even make a joke...

Let him go, come on. Maybe it's his father or his uncle...

Keep your bullshit jokes to yourself, okay? If you ever try that again, I'll kick your ass.

(Back on track)

Gianni, I'm mortified, I... I didn't think there were so many imbeciles in here, otherwise I wouldn't have asked you to dance.

Oh, never mind, darling: I'm used to it.

But what are you doing, are you still dancing?

Yes, why?

But with all these assholes around…

Do you know what the secret is, my angel? Let other people's stupidity roll off you like water off a goose's feathers. That way it won't stick. Come on, dance with me.

I've lost the desire, but if you really want to...

Yes, I want.

Okay, then I'll dance.

Anyway, it's amazing how the male comes out of you in certain circumstances. I admired you a lot, you know?

It was the least I could do, Gianni.

(The song ends)

Shall we order something else, darling?

Yes, a double whiskey.

Are you kidding me? Since when do you start drinking hard liquor?

Since I'm pissed. Those two pissed me off.

You should get pissed off more often, it suits you very well. I'm happy with a Campari soda.

But then we go to sleep at the chalet: I'm tired of staying here.

Totally agree, darling.