Blanche: You went for the same reason Rose went: To get your hands on my man.
Dorothy: What exactly makes you think he's your man?
Sophia: Who?
Blanche: Maybe that I found him first.
Sophia: Who?
Dorothy: He dumped you for me.
Sophia: Who?
Dorothy: Laszlo, Ma.
Sophia: Who's Laszlo?
Rose: A Hungarian artist we've all been posing nude for.
Sophia: In the future, a simple "none of your business, Sophia" will suffice.