“That's not how I'd planned it to be.""How did you plan it to be?" I ask, not to be snarky but because I am genuinely curious."I planned it to be a million different things," he replies. "And in the end, I couldn't figure which one it should be.”
“How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure.”
“How could I ask for a better friend? Someone who gives me a backup plan. Instead of someone who makes me the backup plan.”
“Plan. Yes. Good idea. I should come up with a plan.”
“If you were to ask me if I'd ever had the bad luck to miss my daily cocktail, I'd have to say that I doubt it; where certain things are concerned, I plan ahead.”
“I have a plan." He groaned. "I was afraid of that.""My plans are not terrible.""Isabelle's plans are terrible." He pointed a finger at her. "Your plans are suicidal. At best.”