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[At Jules' apartment
: Pretty gloomy setting! Jules
: Think so? A monument to disaster... deluxe style!
: Where are we? Alba
: In a castle. Jules
: What castle? Alba
: Where the witch makes poisoned red apples to advertise the toothpaste movie stars use.
: It's the only recording. Cynthia Hawkins
: It was you? Jules
: It's yours. It's my gift to you. Forgive me. Cynthia Hawkins
: But... I've never heard myself sing! Jules
: Do you steal the dresses of all singers? Jules
: No, no. Cynthia Hawkins
: So, I'M the lucky one! I have a fan? Jules
: I heard you in Bordeaux. And last year I went to Munich specially for the concert. Cynthia Hawkins
: You made the trip for me? Jules
: Yes, on the moped. Cynthia Hawkins
: On the moped. So, you ARE a real fan.
[In Cynthia's hotel suite
] Cynthia Hawkins
: What's your name, Mr. Postman? Jules
] Jules. Cynthia Hawkins
: Jules! Jules is old for a young man. I thought the French were modern. Jules
: My father was old-fashioned. Cynthia Hawkins
] I'm kidding! Jules fits you so poorly that it fits you very well. Jules...
: [Motioning to Cynthia
] She's the queen of Africa. Jules
: [Smiling at Cynthia
] She's the queen of the night.
: [eyeing the scene printed on Alba's miniskirt
] Is that the Opera House? Alba
: No, that's my ass.