Tristan: And she's reading again. How novel.
Rory: Goodbye Tristan.
Tristan: Well did you get the novel thing? Because--
Rory: I said goodbye!
Tristan: What are you doing here?
Rory: I like lines.
Tristan: The guy's supposed to get tickets.
Rory: Really? Does Susan Faludi know about this?
Tristan: Well, unless of course there is no guy.
Rory: No, there's a guy.
Tristan: Yeah, a cheap guy.
Rory: Well what can I say, I like 'em cheap. Sloppy, too. Bald spots, beer gut, you know, and the pants that kind of slip down in the back giving you that good plumber shot. That sends me through the roof.
Tristan: So who is he?
Rory: (sighs heavily) How many languages can you say "none of your business" in?
Tristan: Does he go to this school?
Rory: No, he doesn't.
Tristan: Uh-hunh. Okay well look, I'll confess something to you. I don't have a date.
Rory: Well I hear Squeaky Frome's up for parole soon. You should keep a good thought.
Tristan: Well I actually thought you'd like to go with me.
Rory: You did not.
Tristan: I did too!
Rory: You did not, because you are not stupid!
Tristan: Why, thank you.
Rory: Slimey and weasily yes, but stupid no. You'd have to be stupid to think, that given our history, I would ever, barring a piano or a safe falling on my head, want to go anywhere with you, ever.
Tristan: Okay, fine. I'll take Sissy.
Rory: I'll send her a condolence card.
Tristan: Yeah. Well at least she won't be buying her own ticket.