Life made a spectacle of itself, and I was unprepared. Though I may laugh gayly, with obvious merriment, I am not amused. In truth, it can be said that I possess no sense of humour.
No, I mock you not, sir. I speak only facts that you do not wish to pry from me. For you seek only a brief acquaintance. A dalliance. An affaire. A momentary nothing.
But I must ask you to check yourself, sir. Check the reasons that you have chosen to approach me and place your noble, if slightly intoxicated self at my side. For I am not one of those other chicks you see out there. I am no debutante, though my dress is of the finest white silk and lace.
I am without whimsy, I am without mercy, and I will pity you once you are gone from my side. But go you must. I do not want you here.
Go you must, you tiresome creature.