"What I'd like to know," Simon said, his hand resting comfortably on Ryan's leg for anyone at Jackie's party to see, "is how Giuliana came by this knowledge about the backs of your thighs."
"Oh, you heard that, did you?" Ryan beamed. He was pleased whenever Simon indicated having an interest in his radio show, even if most of his knowledge of it came second- or third-hand.
"What are the two of you doing off-camera at E?" Simon asked.
It was probably a rhetorical question, but Ryan answered it anyway. "Same thing you do in London when I'm not around."
"You don't know! Crazier things have happened behind closed doors at E."
"Crazier than you and Giuliana Rancic? I very much doubt it. You'd have a better chance with Joel McHale."
"He'd dig it. His wife would be into it." Ryan grinned. "No, you're right about G. If I were married to Bill Rancic, I wouldn't sleep with me, either."
"But she's been intimate," Simon said, returning to the subject, "with the backs of your thighs."
"She touches my butt, too. Jealous?"
"No," Simon said. "I'm very familiar with your butt and the backs of your thighs. I just want to know why she's familiar with them, too."
"She's Italian," Ryan explained. "They're a very handsy people. Sometimes she cops a feel. It's all good."
Simon slipped an arm behind Ryan and copped his own feel.
"Hey!" Ryan protested. "A little decency, please; I heard there are like seventeen of your ex-girlfriends here."
"Bollocks. I don't have seventeen exes. That's just something Jackie told the press. Besides, it's my birthday, I'll feel you up if I want to."
"It's not your birthday. It's not even technically your birthday party. It's Jackie's. You wait until October, then you can feel me up."
"I can't feel you up later tonight? After the seventeen imaginary exes have left?"
"Oh, all right, maybe," Ryan said. "You can reacquaint yourself with the backs of my thighs. Giuliana says my hamstrings are like steel, you know."
"Yes," Simon said archly, "so I've heard."