Adelle DeWitt: Still you have to admit, I am… very British. I don’t say hard R’s.
Topher Brink: You know what I like? Brown sauce. What’s it made of? Science doesn’t know!
Adelle DeWitt: It’s made of brown.
Topher Brink: Brown. Mined from the earth by the hardscrabble brown miners of North Brownderton.
Adelle DeWitt: Oh, my God. I find lentils completely incomprehensible. What the sun-dappled hell is Echo doing at Fremont?
Topher Brink: That’s got nothing to do with the drug, which means our problems are huge and indomitable.
Adelle DeWitt: Ooh. I could eat that word. Or a crisp. Do you have any crisps?
Topher Brink: You haven’t seen my drawer of inappropriate starches? C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon!
Adelle DeWitt: Oh my god, I’m having such a terrible day.