Walker: You seemed like you wanted to be out of your head.
Iris: I did. Nothing about you is tacky. Assuming you're not about to send a dick pic.
Walker: Only if you ask nicely.
Iris: Would you really?
Walker: Don't know. I never have. I don't really think about shit that way. I take things as they come.
Iris: Maybe later.
Walker: Iris, you have to stop toying with my ego.
Iris: Do I?
Walker: Yeah.
Iris: Or?
Walker: Or you'll hurt my feelings.
Iris: That's it?
Walker: What's worse?
Iris: You don't seem like the type who bruises easily.
Walker: Hmm.
Iris: I'm doing it again, aren't I?
Walker: If the… what the hell defines a shrink?
Iris: A "Hmmm, interesting, tell me more," a couch, and a box of tissues?
Walker: That's quite the stereotype.
Iris: That's what you're looking for.
Walker: You go to therapy?
Iris: You really don't have game.
Walker: Shit? I'm not supposed to ask babes about therapy either?
Iris: I'm pretty sure that's a hard no.
Walker: Damn. You're blowing my mind.
Iris: Am I?
Walker: No. But you… well, I have enough game to know babes don't like the words "blow job."
Iris: We don't.
Walker: Why is that?
Iris: It isn't sexy.