"Naturally."

Sometimes, when your best friend is trying to fill the awkward silence of a room with an incredibly awkward story (that should remain only in the original moments of creation), you just have to sit back and let them drown. Just because you love them doesn't mean you have to be Leo. You stay on that driftwood above the icey water, letting the frozen body drift down, down, down with the ship. Sure, you're freezing too but no need to die. And then as you think there's no way your BFFL is going to be able to save the story (they've missed so many details and rushed the climax and their sweat-moustache is oh so glittery), you prod them a bit further ("Go on..."). Then, impossibly, they save it. By going beyond what you think they'd be willing to reveal. They go there. And they tell all who listen that you'd mate with the goat family that lives on the mountain atop which you find yourself stranded (in order for your legacy to live on). It is at this point that you remember why you are best friends, and you'd be honored to raise a generation of satyrs with them. It is the recurring theme which you forget the power of; not bestiality - but the simple truth that they are willing to sacrifice you, as well, to get the laugh.