[turns] What're you lookin' at? SAM
I'm–nothing. I'm not-nothing. Except it's from Pinafore. TRIBBEY
It's from Penzance. SAM
I hate to stick my head in the lion's mouth, but I got to ask you: were you the Recording
Secretary of the Princeton Gilbert and Sullivan Society for two years? TRIBBEY
No, but then again I'm not a woman, so? SAM
I'm just saying… TRIBBEY
Little drinks, I'm supposed to be having right now! Umbrellas, sticking out of them!
[beat] Shish kabob! Tribbey walks away as Sam watches him go.
I don't know why I've had this in my head all day: this, and the Gilbert and Sullivan references, and the lines about duty – but oddly, not the cricket bat, which is normally my favourite thing, but amazingly I'm not feeling cricket-bat-wieldy. Still.
Imagine the little drinks as a boy wizard, and the umbrellas as massive magic battles or something like that, and you have my week's sense of anticipation of the upcoming Harry Potter finale. Lalalalala. LITTLE DRINKS! UMBRELLAS! SIRIUS BLACK!