Lilith: Doctor, might I have a word with you?
Frasier: Certainly, Doctor.
Lilith: How do you feel about Ivan?
Frasier: Feel? Look, the man is one of the most famous designers in the city. He's been written up in every magazine from Metropolitan Home to HG. He's got more awards on his shelves than we have shelves. I'd like to beat the crap out of him.
Lilith: Maybe we should let him go.
Frasier: If that's your final decision, my cherub, I concur.
Lilith: The heave-ho.
Frasier: Wait. At the risk of sounding sexist, I do believe this is man's work. It requires a firm hand. Please feel free to leave the room if you must. This could get unpleasant. [to Ivan] Sir. You're too good for us. Your masterful design would make our poor little lives just seem drab by comparison, and of course, we'll, uh, see to your severance pay, two weeks? [off Ivan's look] Six months?
Ivan: Fine.
Frasier: I can't tell you what a once-in-a-lifetime thrill it's been to bask in your talent. Uh, bye-bye now. Watch the steps. [Ivan exits] Huh.
Lilith: I only hope he can recover from that tongue lashing.