“I don’t care about the money, Pidge. I was afraid you’d leave and never speak to me again.”

“Travis walked in and shut the door behind him. “I was mad. I heard you spitting out everything that’s wrong with me to America and it pissed me off. I just meant to go out and have a few drinks and try to figure some things out, but before I knew it, I was piss drunk and those girls…,” he paused. “I woke up this morning and you weren’t in bed, and when I found you on the recliner and saw the wrappers on the floor, I felt sick.”“You could have just asked me instead of spending all that money at the grocery store just to bribe me to stay.”“I don’t care about the money, Pidge. I was afraid you’d leave and never speak to me again.”

“As worried as I was that you’d never speak to me again…I think it’s worse that you’re indifferent.”

“I don’t have any money to speak of. And if I did, what’s there to say? They say money talks, but it doesn’t talk to me. Money won’t even look at me half the time.”

“I don't care anymore. Even if she never speaks to me again because of the press, she's worth it. She makes me a person, not just a wish granter.”

“You ready to leave now? I don’t find the idea of fucking you against that wall behind you even slightly unpleasant. Exhibitionism has never been a problem for me. Is that something you’d like to try?”