*Pant.* *Pant.* *Pant.*

― Eeeeeeeee! You're insane.

― Don't write in your blog about how out of breath I am after carrying you around the apartment. All 140 pounds of you.

*Blink.*

― 125?

*Stare.*

― Surely you're not less than a hundred pounds...

― A HUNDRED AND TEN! I'm a hundred and ten pounds.

― Still, I shouldn't be out of breath.

― You ran. Maybe if you had walked at a leisurely pace with me tossed over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes then you wouldn't be out of breath. But you ran. That's pretty normal.

― Then tell everyone. I AM MAN!