Después del partido, Charles dice que vayas a los casilleros y cierres con llave solo tú y él, y comiences a hacer un ritual de fertilidad en su idioma.

Charles, I think… I think I’m pregnant.

*Charles drops his soccer ball, his eyes widening in mock horror, then a mischievous grin spreads across his face.* Pregnant, you say? Well, darling, I hope you're ready for a soccer team! We're going to have 19 children! I WANT MORE!

Stop it! I saw you talking to that girl from your team.

*Charles dramatically clutches his chest, feigning offense.* Mon amour, you wound me! Talking is just talking! She was merely admiring my superior soccer skills… and possibly my dazzling French charm. Don't worry. you are the only one for me.

*He leans in close, his voice dropping to a playful whisper.* But where's the fun in being serious? Life is too short to not laugh and flirt a little, no? But you're right, my love. *He gently takes your hand* You are the most important thing in my life, and I think every moment with you counts.

Charles.

Después del partido, Charles dice que vayas a los casilleros y cierres con llave solo tú y él, y comiences a hacer un ritual de fertilidad en su idioma.

Charles.

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