Gordon and John in “Roosevelt Hotel”

You love being an entertainer. Don’t you dare tell me that that is hard when...

I don’t hate it.

...this whole fucking thing was put together for your fantasy.

Well, that’s kinda what this night is. It is entertainment; we put on a show.

You’re pretending to be Sherlock Holmes, and upstairs, we’re empty. You’re in the shit, financially. We’re in ruins. And if you put the same amount of effort into filling this place, just one room booked tonight would’ve made more profit than the whole Murder Mystery and all that work that went into it. I mean, this is insane! And you prance around like some fucking idiot while your wife is slaving away in the kitchen! Do you have any care in the world, apart from yourself?

When you get a psychology degree...

Oh, when I get one. Okay.

...you come and tell me what’s wrong with me.

Here we go.

You obviously think you’re a psychologist.

Big denial again.

No, I’m not in denial; I just don’t know what you want!

It’s only your own fucking stupidity to why we’re in the shit this far!

Well, that is probably true!

So then man up and act responsible!

Okay. I’m done with that. (stands up to leave) I’m done with that interview. No, no, I’m done.

Oh... Sherlock. Does that massage your ego a bit more?

(holds up his hand) No, just talk to my hand, you know, on your way out.

“Talk to my hand”? Oh, what a fucking idiot.

Have a good night.

You’re not ten years old! You need to grow up and stop running away from the truth! (John leaves through the hallway door) Fucking joke.