Michael: You get it all out of your system? You gonna come back, get to work?
Eleanor: No, man, I meant what I said. I quit.
Michael: I'm sorry you overheard that, and they're sorry they said it. But you don't just get to quit this, Eleanor. This is not your seventh-grade band, or three hours into a two-week juice cleanse. A little more at stake here.
Eleanor: Yeah, man, that's why I'm quitting. The things that are happening here are above my pay grade. How do I get Brent to stop being such a deckhead? How do I fix Simone when she's convinced all of this is happening inside of her brain? Ooh, maybe I should drive her into the arms of my ex-boyfriend? That sounds fun. What do I do about John, the gossip king, or the demon spy who punched me in the face? And how do I do it all with a pleasant smile to keep everyone's spirits up? I'm not meant for this. I'm not the freakin' savior of the universe. I'm just... a girl from Arizona. That's it. I'm just a normal girl from Arizona. I ate junk food, I watched reality shows, I sometimes left H&M wearing more underpants than I had on when I came in. I did a bad job of being in charge of my own life, and now I'm supposed to be in charge of everyone else's life? I... I cannot do this.