Cynthia: Malcolm, what are you doing?
Malcolm: Look, Cynthia, believe me, I'm trying to kiss you, and I think if you just give me a minute to clear my head, I'll be able to kiss you, okay?
Cynthia: Excuse me?!
Malcolm: Francis said she'd do this.
Cynthia: And who, exactly, is Francis?
Malcolm: It's not what you think. He's my brother.
Cynthia: You were going to kiss me, and you're thinking about your brother?
Malcolm: No, I was thinking about my mom. No, I mean, I was thinking about your bra. I mean... I was thinking about what's in your bra. Uh... I mean, what will be in your bra. Oh, can I start over?
[After Cynthia pokes Malcolm with her fingers, knocking him down, she kicks him and walks out]
Malcolm: [groans] I wonder if I can convince anyone this is a hickey.