Mr. Newberry: 'Did I have you figured wrong?'
Martin Blank: 'I don't know - I mean, I hope so.'
Mr. Newberry: 'I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek.'
Martin Blank: 'No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenary sensibility. You know - sports, sex, no real relationships with anyone. How about you, how have the years been treating you?'
Mr. Newberry: 'Well, you know me, Martin. Still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed.'
Martin Blank: 'Sure.'
Mr. Newberry: '"Ah, what a piece of work is man, how noble..." ah, fuck it. Let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.'