Shannon: Why are you being such a :censor:?
Olivia: You didn’t tell me before I had sex with the guy that he was dead!
Shannon: I didn’t know he was dead then. And he’s not really dead now. Just undead.
Olivia: I liked it better when he was un-undead.
Shannon: Whatever. But I can’t let you go back to Boston. You’re going to :censor: live Happily Ever After even if I have to staple your ass to the page.
Olivia: I need a cigarette.
Shannon: You don’t smoke.
Olivia: I quit, and sometimes I really regret it. Like when I have to deal with you.
Shannon: You smoked?
Olivia: Ya’think? My fingernails look like this for a reason.
Shannon: You bite your nails?
Olivia: Should I talk slower? Or you could lay off the Sudafed, maybe? You know those nifty character sheets you love to talk about not filling out? If you did that, you’d know this crap. And I ate Shredded Wheat my first day of kindergarten, but I stuck my tongue out at my mother for it everytime she turned her back. You didn’t know that, either, did you?
Shannon: You know, I think maybe Tomas gets turned on by sticking high-voltage cattle prods up his women’s—
Olivia: You wouldn’t dare.