Diane: "Oh, see I thought that was a pile of rags, but it was a person."
Coyne: "Yeah, that's our appeals department. She naps mostly. But it's fine, because nobody ever calls."
Diane: "Well, I'm sure that is hard, but I just wanted to say that we won't be doing any more pro bono work for you. We hate poor people, and do-gooders."
Coyne: "That's a stone bummer, man. Don't stress about it."
Diane: "I mean, seeing the abject nature of your fight against an uncaring and monolithic system has been eye-opening, but I'm really more interested in siphoning off as much money as possible from the bankrupting of America right now. Like a... Like a remora, or some other kind of parasite."
Coyne: "I get that, man. I really do. I grok that."
Diane: "Maybe when I get my shit together, I will extend our pro bono services to you again, but frankly that seems totally unlikely right now."
Coyne: "That's no problem, man. We probably won't be here when or if you do. We just lost our state funding, so, whatever."
Diane: "Wait, what? What the hell are you going to do? Your fight is a righteous one!"
Coyne: "You know, we can still knock on doors and yell at rich people. One thing I've learned in the not-for-profit world is that eventually, someone steps up."
Diane: "Do they?"
Coyne: "Yeah. I mean, apparently not you, but someone. At some point. Anyway, have a great afternoon! If you'll excuse me, I have to smush all the slivers of soap in the communal bathroom together, to make one soap. That's what my day looks like."
Diane: "Okay. It's good to finally meet you in person. I wish, uh... I don't know what I wish. I wish the world were different."
Coyne: "That sounds good! I'll be here waiting. And throwing the pages of my novel manuscript into this pot-bellied stove, one at a time, so the interns don't freeze to death in their fight for justice. It's my only copy, so..."