Rory: [on the phone] Hey, Michel. How's it going?
Michel: Middling to poor. Where are you? I hear noise.
Rory: I'm on a train on my way back from Providence.
Michel: Oh.
Rory: What?
Michel: I do not care for trains.
Rory: Oh, no? I'm sorry.
Michel: Trains are dirty.
Rory: Well, this train doesn't look very dirty.
Michel: You know what I find particularly disgusting?
Rory: What?
Michel: Train tracks. They remind me somehow of trails left behind by slugs. You know there are a lot of slugs in the spring, you know? Oozing all over the place. Uh, I think your mother is done now.