Carlton: Well, Geoffrey, it looks like I'm all ready for the harvest dance. Tux? Check. Shoes? Check. And a pure silk, hand-stitched pocket square.
Geoffrey: Exquisite.
Will: Man, it is definitely peach season, man.
[Will places the remainder of his peach in Carlton's pocket square, which he proceeds to blow his nose with]
Carlton: Will, that's disgusting.
[Carlton picks up the pocket square with tongs]
Carlton: Would you please clean this for me, Geoffrey?
Geoffrey: I would prefer an assassin's bullet to this kind of living hell.
Will: Yo, I think G's drawers must be bunching again.