I know you’re richer than fuck, but don’t you dare try to tell me you have nice-reliable-car kind of money lying around.” “Sure I do. I have birthday money and Christmas money and—” “Birthday money is fifty dollars! It’s a hundred here, two hundred there if you’re very, very fucking lucky.” He’s yelling now, and he’s not even trying not to. I love it. It makes me so happy to see him like this. “Please tell me you understand that. I swear to God, I’m going to have a heart attack if you don’t tell me you understand that.”
No fr
