Mike: All right, hold on. I've got quite an eye for young boys.
Cece: Oh, God.
Mike: That's right, I said it. It's not a typo. Let's see some I.D. God, you're handsome.
Cece: I'm sorry.
Mike: Wyoming! Look at that.
Cece: Mm-hmm.
Mike: Wyoming. So you're one of the three people from Wyoming.
Buster: Yeah. Cowboy state, big sky country, home of the Liberty Bell.
Mike: Bull snatch. That's an awful accent. What is your real accent? Are you Australian or from Heaven? How old are you, for real?
Cece: Leave him alone.
Mike: Don't bull-snatch a bull-snatcher.
Cece: Leave him alone. You're over 21, right?
Buster: I'm not. Um... I'm 20.
Mike: Get out of here, you delicious bastard.
Buster: Can I get my I.D. back?
Mike: No, of course not, you can't. It'd be against the law, you wonderful creature.
Buster: Nice to meet you, Cece.
Mike: Good God, you look nice. Nothing irks me like underage drinking. It's stupid, it's dangerous, it's irresponsible. God, I want to have sex with that kid so bad, it's freaking me out! Oh. I'm real tingly.