Scene: A gun range. Snappy fires a G31 .357. Bitey watches.
Bitey: Hey Snaps. Did you ever wonder if people who play video games also own guns? I mean more than other people?
Snappy: [Pow, pow, pow.]
Bitey: Good shot! What about mentally ill people? Do lots of them own guns?
Snappy: [Pah-ya.]
Bitey: How about people with
Scene: Snappy dozes at her laptop. Across the table, Bitey sips from a LavAzza cup. Slurps, really. Yet it doesn't wake Snappy. So Bitey clears his throat. Snappy straightens. She yawns.
Snappy: Curse you. Can't you see. Can't you see my slumber. Your crudeness has chased it. Caught it. Made it depart. Dang. And why
Scene: An office near Ground Zero. Way up high. Perhaps in 40 Wall Street. Which has that awesome Duane Reade store on the ground floor. Some place posh in the area no matter what.
Snappy: Did you know, Bitey, that people could insure themselves against risks they Do Not Have?
Bitey: When, in the course
Snappy: You know, Bitey, ever since the nice doctor cut out my spare kidney by not-on-purpose, I've thought a lot about tort reform.
Bitey: But Snappy, you hate reform — tort or not. Why thinketh thou aboutst itteth after your Bad Surgery Thing?
Snappy: Oh, you know, one thing leads to another. For instance, as I gazed at
Snappy: General Kagan, do you feel odd when people call you general?
Kagan: No. Should I?
Snappy: Just wondered. [Aside: Sheesh.]
Bitey: Because, I think my colleague seems to mean, you don't work in the military. Never have. Right?
Kagan: Well, no, I haven't.
Bitey: [To Snappy: Zing!]
Snappy: How about when people called