How did we meet - do you remember?
I was interested in your name. I was referred here by a friend, Ms. Kimberly Quock, a friend from the islands. Your name is Chloe? A good name, doesn't get my blood boiling, a fine name for friendly conversation. Chloe, where have you been all my life? You must forgive me, I have never, ever met someone with so large a forehead.
I have my fetishes: a voluminous forehead here, a well-manicured, even serrated toenail there; a fluffy pink bunny laid carefully above my doorframe. Everyone has some micropleasure, Chloe - what are yours? Perhaps dromedary limericks, or piping hot porcini mushroom pie - or is it blonde peach-fuzzed boys named Sven? Oh we'll get along fine, ma'am; I am a tolerant soul.
I don't go well with your brother, true. The exception proving the rule. That mango on his head - a custom from the island perhaps, or psychotherapeutic appendage. Such folly. A mango can't help your brother; noggin fruit doesn't help anything, Chloe. Your brother should give up his pet personalities. That bit of tropicalia is a stubborn ploy. 'MangoHead' be damned; it adds up to nothing but a rotting piece of fruit...
(the preceding serves no purpose at all. except practice)