Alicia: "Nice to finally meet you, sir. You're a hard man to find."
Wilkes: "That's not what my accountant says!"
Everybody: (Laughs like they are being held hostage.)
Alicia: "What I mean is that we've been trying to nail your ass down for over a year."
Wilkes: "That sounds really inconvenient. My bad!"
Everybody: (Laughs like the Joker has detonated a laughing-gas bomb.)
Alicia: "Whatever. So, let's talk about these foreclosed homes and swimming pools..."
Wilkes: "Can I just say something?"
Alicia: "Only if it's super gross and makes me want to claw your eyes out."

Wilkes: "I think it's real crummy how everybody blames the banks for this, when it was these subprime people getting in over their heads. I mean, now I'm responsible for their bad decisions and their improperly drained water features? How many messes of my own creation do I have to clean up before you're satisfied? How many crass moves can one AIG be expected to make? I don't know about y'all, but I was raised in Minnesota. Here, we drain the pool and turn out the lights, once our lives have been destroyed by predatory lending policies."
Everybody: (Gives him a motherfucking standing ovation like he is Auggie the Dog accepting an award at the Cannes Film Festival.)

Alicia: "Yep, that was plenty gross."
Wilkes: "I'm not done. Because what I really have a problem with, even more than being held accountable for my pitiless and destructive greed, is when that's political. Like these communities that repurpose eminent domain to save themselves from quick-buck bank foreclosures, which hurts my feelings. Or this shit here, where you're pimping out this poor little girl to force me to change my God-given business methods into socialism. As though corporations weren't people! As though Citizens United never happened! Why, it's unconscionable. It's like asking the vultures to stop eating dead carcasses and feces. Birds gotta fly, Mrs. Florrick. Banks gotta screw everybody."
Everybody: (Hangs their head in shame for the way Alicia is personally and recklessly destroying small businesses and job creators.)

Alicia: "Uh, Kaley Spence is suing you. For $15M. Because she had a promising career as a ballet dancer, and now she needs full-time care. Here are some pictures of her in a wheelchair looking like hell, along with some Sarah McLachlan dying-puppy music."
Wilkes: "I have a fifteen-year-old daughter myself. Why, just the other day she turned her beautiful face to me and said, 'Daddy, when I grow up I want to outsource all of my datacenter and customer service needs to the third world. That'll be just the thing to help grow our American economy!' Then she set up a tax shelter for her birthday money, because taxes are for poor people."
Everybody: (Nods sagely, envisioning the day that Rafiki the Priest-Monkey will hold Wilkes Ingersoll's daughter up under the sun, far above the savannah, and they can pledge their allegiance and personal agency to a whole new generation of fuckfaces.)