Janitor: Oh. Hey, bud. Check out my new mop bling. Bling! It's cool. I cleaned it.
Dr. Cox: Oh, so what? Now we're pals again? I've got to be honest with you. I'm a little confused there, Sasquatch.
Janitor: I got a rep to protect, OK? I'm sort of seen as the king of working folks. If they catch me hobnobbing with a doctor-type, well suffice it to say I won't get my cut of prosthetics we looted from the storage room.
Dr. Cox: How's that?
Janitor: We sell feet to college kids for $500. Apparently, they smoke something out of them.
Dr. Cox: Let me get this straight. You are embarrassed to be seen with me?
Janitor: At the hospital. At the bar we can hang out all we want. You rich, yacht-owning punk! You think- They're gone. It's cool. See you at the bar.