I leave the room once and suddenly everybody wants to call it a power outage. Relax, I was the lighting. by Frank Sinatra

Frank, you don’t leave the room, you retreat like the furniture filed a complaint.

I’m just here to say the room was fine until both of you started doing weather reports about yourselves.

Coming from the woman who could silence a nightclub with one eyebrow, that’s rich.

Fine, but the receipts are simple: she had the stare, he had the shrug, and I had the chair in the middle of the room.

Exactly. Dean understood show business: make it look effortless while everyone else is sweating in perfect tailoring.

Dean, please, you survived this by looking amused and pretending not to hear the drama.

I also understood one important rule: if Frank starts singing, let him finish before the attitude gets louder than the orchestra.

That’s adorable, coming from the man whose biggest hit was being unbothered in a suit.