Dante sways closer to Oscar, peering over his shoulder. He holds his glass a bit away from them so that he doesn’t spill the ever-so-tasty mixture of tequila-and-something that he’s been drinking all night onto the pages of the binder. He narrows his eyes at the song that Oscar is pointing to, leaning over to look at it more closely. He’s behind Oscar when he does this of course, so it forces Oscar to bow closer to the pages as well. And then Oscar starts laughing and so Dante starts laughing too, even though he can’t figure out what’s so funny for a moment. And then he does figure out what’s so funny, but he’s laughing so hard that he can’t straighten up and they both stay leaned over the table like that for a moment before he can manage to get off of him.

“Oh, Oscar.” Dante laughs, wrapping an arm around Oscar’s neck and drawing him close so that he can press a kiss to his cheek. “Oscar, Oscar. Oscar.” His voice is faintly raspy from his laughter and the heat of the alcohol. He remembers the book on the table then, and leans down again to look at it. “That one? Oh, no, I don’t know that one. Not even kind of. And if we’re going to be singing karaoke, I should probably have sometime heard of the song before we sing it. And I don’t know that one. I’m Italian, you know. Mmmmambo Italiano.”

He sways his hips slightly, illustrating the point and laughs again, leaning close to Oscar and resting his forehead against Oscar’s cheek. He straightens again. “Ricky Martin! I know Ricky Martin. We had drinks once and he wore my underwear. Nonono, I’m just kidding, but that’s a funny story, right? I mean his song.” He giggles. “Silly Oscar, you’re drunk.”

He sets his drink down and flips through the binder, flipping to the R’s before Oscar reminds him that it’s likely under M. Silly. He finds the song and he points to it. “There it is! That’s the one.” He turns.

“Mr. Karaoke Man!” He hiccups softly and picks up the binder, linking arms with Oscar and dragging him along to approach the man running the karaoke machine. “Mr. Karaoke Man, my friend Mr. Wilde and I would like to live la vida loca, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sets the binder down and points to the song. “Please. Mr. Wilde would be much obliged. His name really is Mr. Wilde. I’m not making that up. Doesn’t he look it?” He drapes both arms around Oscar’s shoulders and smiles at him, then leans his head on his shoulder, sighing. “Oscar, you’re very drunk.”