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Clara and Malcolm
"Fuck men."

"Yep."

Clara turned and glared at Malcolm, who was looking far too bemused at her comment for someone who had just been dumped, "I don't mean literally."

"I know," he snapped back just as quickly. "I'm sick of them too, I mean---at least women aren't scared of commitment!"

"I know!" Clara agreed, pushing her back off the side cushions of the couch, the rough stone floor of the club digging into her knees. They were hiding on the far side of one of Psyke's photo shoots, where they'd been banned from seeing any of the final shots. Bloody diva. "I mean, I'm almost in my mid-twenties! I'm old!"

"I know!" Malcolm agreed, earning a smack from Clara. He smirked and sighed, flopping dramatically along the length of the couch. "I swear, Clara, we'd be like--the best spouses ever."

"Like---the best spouses in the history of spouses."

"They'd have to rewrite the definition of spouses and make sure they include our names."

"Ugh, Malcolm," Clara twisted again to face him, "why couldn't you be straight?"

"Why couldn't you be a guy?"

"True." She pouted. "I'd totally marry you if you were straight."

"And I'd totally...have my way with you if you were a guy!"