[Goes down stairs to Ian eating cereal watching Harley Quinn on TV] Hey, what you doin' today?
"It's me, dickhead," or just "me, dickhead"?
Yo... Ian.
I'm just trying to find the strength to get off the couch and search for another minimum-wage, dead-end, soul-crushing job to appease my parole officer.
Yeah, well... what if I offer you a job?
As what, getaway car driver?
Come on, weed money security for the Alibi. It's your lucky day, bitch. Come on.
Yeah, thanks but no, thanks.
Fuck you. Why not?
I'm not doing anything illegal.
Weed's legal now. Look, stop eating your weight in Froot Loops. Go get dressed. Go on.
I don't think it's a good idea for us to work together.
Oh. Oh, oh. Well, let's get this shit straight, then, 'cause it's not "workin' together." You're workin' for me, all right? I'm the boss.
No, thanks.
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