David:: I wasn't hitting on Sophia.
Brian:: Oh, fine. Whatever you say. I'm crazy. I'm blind.
David:: You're not blind, you're drinking Jack Daniels, and when you drink Jack you start in with that, "Frank Sinatra, she shot me down, give me a cigarette, King of Sad" thing.
Brian:: That I do. Give me a cigarette.
David:: I'll find one.
Brian:: But wait. You're rich and women love you, and I'm from Ohio and I'm drunk. Can I tell you the truth?
David:: Everybody does.
Brian:: I dig her. And I've never said this to you before about any girl, but she could be - could be, could be, could be - the girl of my fucking dreams.
David:: You're not from Ohio.
Brian:: I know. But if she fucks up our friendship, she can go to hell. I won't allow it. We are bros.
David:: I feel the same way.
Brian:: Sure you do.

[David is knocked fiercely over the head with frying pan. He wakes up later. He is puzzled by the presence of Julie.]
David: Who are you?
Julie: I'm Sofia.
David: You are not Sofia.
Julie: I'm Sofia.
David: Whatever.

David: How 'bout if you help me, unless i'm horning in here.
Sofia: You are, but the food's good.
David: See, I've got this little problem. I've got a stalker.
Sofia: It doesn't sound life threatening.
David: But I need a cover. I need for you to pretend we're having a scintillating conversation, and you are wildly entertained. I know it's tough.
Sofia: I'll improvise.
David: She's across the room and burning a hole in my back now, isn't she?
Sofia: Red dress, strappy shoes? Wow. She's really staring at you.
David: Shit.
Sofia: And she seems to be crying. Less happy. I think she's the saddest girl to ever hold a martini.