"Man someone's done hacked my writing project," said Trent, looking over the balcony of his hotel room at a very questionable Ryan's Steakhouse.  "Probably my identity too.  Foul play at its utmost."
  "Control freaks," said Harris.  "Change your password."
  "It's deeper than that man.  Come on.  Well, I'm one of 'em too.  Always stay one step ahead of the game.  Trust no one.  No one has your best interests at heart.  First, it's your brother, then your attorney in conjunction with your ex-wife..."
  "Hey wait."
  "...and her international pickpocketing uh ramification shrinks from up Norse stepping in for a crack at it."
  "It never ends.  This forced guidance of yours.  Here this thing's heavy.  Gimme a hand right quick."
  "Oh I'll eat my own words one day.  You watch."
  "That's annoying."
  "What?"
  "When people actually eat their own words."
  "It's a parlor trick."
  "Yeah.  Like I just said: annoying."
  "It serves its purpose."



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