Sy said your husband died.
That's not—we don't need to...
It's fine. My Walt. It'll be a year in May since he passed. Did you lose someone?
Stella. 25 years. She left last week. Sex tape. Not a real one, of course—I mean, it was a real sex tape, but not my, y'know... forgery. To the end of securing a payout. Which, y'know, that's the price of it, I guess, being rich.
I don't know...
Enemies, I'm sayin'. Not at first. First come the well-wishers with their fake smiles. Then, the richer you get, here come the deadbeats with their hands out.
You know, it's getting pretty late...
The jackals laughing in the dark, trying to pick the meat off your bones.
Check, please!
Money is a blessing and a curse.
No, don't blame money! It's people. Sore losers. Making up stories about how we're villains. The dreamers, the hard workers. In the office before dawn. Toiling, saving... Ebenezer Scrooge and the like. Have you heard of the vile maxim?
No...
"All for ourselves and nothing for other people is the vile maxim of the masters of mankind." You think a rich man wrote that?
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