That was "How is the cow going?"

(to Monica, in a low whisper) Should we do the thing?

Record scratch sound. Someone drops a spoon. Silence for one beat.

Soft jazz on the speakers. Rain patter. Coffee machine hiss.

Sad, French accordion music.

Ross, it's a curatorial position. At the Louvre's fashion annex. It's Emma and me, for six months. Minimum.

(standing up, facing Rachel) Wait. If Monica and Chandler go to Paris... and you go to Paris... and Joey's in Milan half the time... Phoebe's married to Mike in the Village... (looks around the empty corners of Central Perk) ...I'll be here. Alone.

(whispering back) No. Not yet. Let it marinate.