Sam: Do you want to stop and sign the petition at that next table, Bingo, my dear?
Bingo: No, I'm all petitioned out, I'm afraid. Don't tire yourself out carrying that Pride banner, Sam dear. Do put it down when you get weary.
Sam: I'm fine, Bingo. And don't you let those beads weigh you down, neither, love. Take them off if you get hot.
Bingo: Dearest friend, your arm around me makes me far hotter than scorching sun or anything around my neck.
Sam: It is a mite hot, so if you don't want me holding you . . .
Bingo: Now hold it one moment, Samwise Gamgee. I said nothing of the kind, you exasperating hobbit! Nor would I ever.
Sam: One thing's for certain. Whether I got my arm around you or no, you're still hot, Bingo Bolger-Baggins. And that ain't changing no how.
Bingo: Hmmmm, I think there's some powdered sugar from the funnel cake still on your beautiful cheek. Hold still, love, while I lick it off . . .
Sam: Do you see me moving? Ain't happening . . .
Sam: Now, don't you go walking on ahead of me, Bingo. How am I gonna hold you close if you walk on ahead of me?
Bingo: My dear hobbit. If I'm walking ahead of you, it's because I want you at my back . . . close.
Sam: . . . you're trying to drive me mad, right here on Pennsylvania Avenue, what with your sliding your hand there like that.
Bingo: I could be. Just you wait until I've gotten you home, Sam. Just you wait . . .
Bingo: I'm glad we brought our beach chairs. It's nice to just sit a while and watch the Big People stroll by.
Sam: I don't need to go nowhere no how, and could sit here all day, with your arm around me, that is.
Bingo: This candy is starting to melt. Care to share a kiss with me, Sam?
Sam: Every star the Lady flung into the sky would have to fall to the ground and every river run dry before I'd say no to that, my dear.
Bingo: Oh Sam, no candy kiss will suffice in answer to that . . .
Sam: Your kisses are sweeter still, love, and no mistake . . .
Both: Mmmmmmmmmm . . .
Sam: How far did you say it is to the wago . . . train . . . Metro?
Bingo: Too far, Sam. Too far.
Sam: Where is that Gandalf when you need some of that Elvish miruvor?
Bingo: Enjoying his own Pride celebration elsewhere, I suppose.
Sam: I wish we were home and snug in our bed, my dear.
Bingo: So do I, Sam dear, so do I.
And our weary hobbits wend their way home . . . .
