Mary: "You know what?"
Tristan: "What?"
Mary: "This place sucks. You know what it's like? Those textbooks with examples. Or on-the-job training materials. You know, 'The Roots of Urban Decay'?"
Tristan: "I can't say that I'm following, no."
Mary: "It's just so... expected."

Mary: "And see that shop?"
Tristan: "What about it?"

Mary: "It's exactly what you expect to see-the fall of Urbania, but without any threat. Sterilized for your consideration. Well guess what? Things change and if you don't change with them you deserve what's coming to you. Time keeps marching forward. What doesn't bend, breaks. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. Checkmate."
Tristan: "Er, Mary?"
Mary: "What?"
Tristan: "Are you still with me?"

Mary stopped and turned back toward Tristan.

Mary: "Yeah. Sorry. It's just that... well, this is agonizing, isn't it? I'd almost rather be in hell."
Tristan: "I'm still not convinced we aren't."
Mary: "We aren't. Hell would have Saran wrap. Lots of rolls of unwieldy Saran wrap with an infinite amount of things requiring wrapping. Hey... what's that?"

Tristan turned to where Mary was pointing.

Mary: "Interesting. Isn't this precisely what you said I needed?"
Tristan: "Er, not precisely..."

Mary marched up to the woman, with Tristan following close behind.

Mary: "Can you help me?"
Lucy: "Me? No, but the doctor's in. Go on back."

Mary turned back to Tristan, who shrugged and looked generally defeated.

Mary: "Well? You coming?"
Tristan: "I suppose I have to."
Mary: "Okay. Here."

Mary held one hand out to Tristan, offering something to him. He put his hand beneath Mary's, and two small foam bullets fell from her hand to his.

Tristan: "Ear plugs?"
Mary: "Patient confidentiality and all. I just need to see you, right? So that I don't forget why I'm here."
Tristan: "I suppose so."

He worked at stuffing the pieces of foam into his ears as he followed Mary behind the booth. Suddenly they were in a luxurious office decorated with Victorian antiquities. A middle-aged man smoking a pipe rose from a leather chair to greet them.

Tristan: "What the hell was all of that about?"
Mary: "No way was I talking to that guy!"
Tristan: "What? Why not?"

Mary frowned and swooped toward Tristan's head, pulling the foam plugs out of his ears.

Mary: "Come on, Sigmund Freud? Like some old fart telling me that I want to sleep with my father because I want a penis is going to help me even remotely?"
Tristan: "Mary, I don't think that was Sigmund Freud."
Mary: "Who else would it have been? He had a freaking leather chaise. Come on, let's go, I have a better idea."
Tristan: "I'm afraid to ask."

Mary pointed across the street to a quaint looking pub.

Tristan: "You want a drink?"
Mary: "Several. Come on."