With a twitch and a scratch, he's got himself sorted at last. "For shame, Sandro. It's no secret that you're not fond of members of the gentle persuasion. Molto bene. That just means there's more for me." He scratches himself again, then resolutely walks on. "Madonna is a most gracious host," he continues, smiling.

He lets the other remark go; it's no use, squabbling with a heartbroken man; his remarks will hardly hurt or bite anyone who feels he's already been mortally wounded.

"So, do I drop you off at the nearest clinic, get yourself checked out? Because otherwise I'm headed home."