Theresa: I am so tired of your perception of me and your constant implying that I'm a gold digger.
Brady: I'm not implying anything. I'm straight out saying it. [Tate gets his coat] Tate, where are you going?
Tate: Anywhere but here.
Theresa: Come on, you can't leave. It's Christmas.
Tate: No! I'm sick of this. My parents are both jerks. Merry Christmas to me!


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