Mrs. Braithwaite: Luke, let's get those dirty, tight pants in the wash. Oh, hello. How are ya?
Jay: I'm here to pick up my barely-legal grandson.
Mrs. Braithwaite: I recognize you. From the club, right? You're the one fighting that silly new cigar rule.
Luke: Excuse me? Where'd you put my shirt?
Jay: Give us a minute, kid. It is a dumb rule, isn't it.
Mrs. Braithwaite: It's terrible. My late husband loved smoking in the main lodge.
Luke: Is that whose cologne you made me put on?
Jay: Hey, hey, hey. Boxes, right? I've got a petition here. Why don't you read it quick? You might want to sign it.
Mrs. Braithwaite: Oh, I'm not sure now's such a good time. [inhales sharply] My neck is so Luke, get in there.
Jay: Put your magic fingers to work.