[Ugh, the fucking flowers. The idea of getting anywhere near them while in the presence of someone else seems like the worst time, actually, but...mmm.]

Well, shit.

[...]

[Fuck, alright.]

Nothin' in this city's tried to kill us before. So it could be one of those stupid bonding things, like in the bank or the mall. Maybe you need to go back and drink with someone to make it stop? Or... it wants you to talk about the flower shit?

[A beat, then a little groan.]

I hope it's not that one.