ועוד אחד...
(Tristan walks down the hall to where Rory is reading while waiting in line to buy tickets.) TRISTAN: And she´s reading again. How novel. RORY: Good-bye, Tristan. TRISTAN: Did you get the novel thing? Because... RORY: I said good-bye. TRISTAN: What are you doing here? RORY: I like lines. TRISTAN: The guy´s supposed to buy the tickets. RORY: Really. Does Susan Faludi know about this? TRISTAN: Unless of course there is no guy. RORY: There´s a guy. TRISTAN: A cheap guy. RORY: Well, what can I say? I like ´em cheap. Sloppy too -- bald spot, 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: 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-huh. Well, look, OK, I´ll confess something to you. I don´t have a date. RORY: Well I hear Squeaky Fromme is 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: Slimy and weasely, 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: OK, fine. I´ll take Cissy. RORY: I´ll send her a condolence card. TRISTAN: Yeah. Well at least she won´t be buying her own ticket.