[after Shane has just informed Oliver that his estranged wife signed a three-year lease in Paris]
How dare you? How dare you invade my privacy? And my wife's? With that horrible machine and that insatiable curiosity of yours? I assume that's what you did: looked up my wife's comings and goings. Just because you have the means to do so, just because you can?!
Because I care, Oliver! I watch you check that stupid Paris box every single day, telling yourself that she must have sent a forwarding address, and convincing yourself that it just got lost in the mail, and, someday, it'll find its way back to the Dead Letter Office and—
So what?!
So what? So you can stop living in limbo and start living your life!
It's my life to live! Why couldn't you mind your own business? Just let... let...
...Nature take its course? I'm sorry, Oliver. I am truly sorry, but this bird has flown, my friend.
This is how friends behave?
I don't know. I don't know. I don't—I've never had a friend like you before.
Yes, well... you may presume too much.
[after a stunned pause] Maybe so.
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