Mike Enslin:
It's good to be back. That's enough of that. Alcohol.
[walks over to the mini-fridge and opens it, only to discover Gerald Olin talking to him]
Gerald Olin:
I was just checking to see if the accommodations are exceeding your expectations.
Mike Enslin:
YOU KNOW GODDAMN WELL THEY ARE! What do you want from me?
Gerald Olin:
No, no, no. What do you want? What do you want, Mr. Enslin? You sought this room.
Mike Enslin:
It was a job, I was just doing the job.
Gerald Olin:
I beg your pardon?
Mike Enslin:
My job, I'm a writer.
Gerald Olin:
Oh, that's right, you don't believe in anything. You like shattering people's hopes.
Mike Enslin:
Oh, that's bullshit!
Gerald Olin:
Why do you think people believe in ghosts? For fun? No, it's the prospect of something after death. How many spirits have you broken?
Mike Enslin:
What do you want from me? Huh? What do you want from me? You...
[starts violently ripping the fridge apart]
Mike Enslin:
You little...
[kicks the fridge repeatedly]
Mike Enslin:
WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT?
[slams the mini-fridge shut]
Mike Enslin:
I want... my DRINK!
