Scene: Ross's apartment. Ross is totally wasted, but he's still drinking all the margaritas.
Ross: The first batch of margaritas was not so great, but the second batch is gooooood.
Rachel: Well, maybe the next batch, we could all get some.
Ross: Oh, guys, this is fun, isn't it? You know? Just the four of us. Just hangin'.
Joey: Dude, are you okay? And when are the fajitas gonna be ready?
Ross: I'm fine! Hey, I'm great! I'm just.. I'm just proud of us. There's no weirdness, no tension.
Rachel: No awareness.
Ross: We make a great foursome. We should do more stuff together. Ooh! Let's take a trip. Okay, where do you think we - we can go?
(The oven timer pings in the kitchen.)
Ross: My fajitas!!
(He runs off to the kitchen.)
Rachel: Look, Charlie, I just want you to know. Ross is just having a little trouble adjusting to the thought of Joey and me. You know, he normally doesn't drink like this.
Charlie: Oh, you know what? This is nothing. My father is a raging alcoholic.
(Joey and Rachel don't know how to respond to that.)
Charlie: Oh, I'm sorry, have I made this evening uncomfortable?
(Ross enters carrying a frying pan with fajitas - without any oven mitts.)
Ross: Fajitas! Be careful, very hot plate, very hot plate!!
Rachel: Ross, you don't even have oven mitts on!
(Ross laughs.)
Ross: That is gonna hurt tomorrow!
