Thirtysomething1987

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
Hi.

Michael Steadman:
Hi.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
What's cooking?

Michael Steadman:
Chicken Ohmygosh. It used to be Chicken Paprikosh but then I realized we don't have any paprika.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
Pretty damned sneaky of you being nice to me when I'm angry at you.

Michael Steadman:
Yeah. Is it working?

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
Not yet.

Michael Steadman:
I don't want this to come as a shock to you or anything, but, uhm, sometimes I can be pretty thoughtless.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
I wish it was a shock.

Michael Steadman:
Look. I didn't want you to see me crawl to Drentell. I didn't want you to see me turn into somebody other than the man that you married.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
It wouldn't have made any difference to me.

Michael Steadman:
Oh. Well, maybe that's part of what was bothering me. I made promises to you. I don't want you to let me off the hook. I don't want you to... to settle for ten cents on the dollar.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
[distracted, looking through work papers] My husband, the Blue Light Special.

Michael Steadman:
I'm going in to talk to Miles tomorrow.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
Is that something you want to do?

Michael Steadman:
Yes, I want to do it. Because it's time I do it.

Hope Murdoch Steadman:
[turning to him] And what about the writing?

Michael Steadman:
The writing. I could take workshops from now till Doomsday. I could wear down enough pencils to make a forest. But I could never make a sentence that means half as much to me as you do.