She flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the pool. It floated for a second, then sank. She said, I don’t like facts.

Danny: I don’t like nouns. Or verbs. And adjectives are the worst.

Nora: No, adverbs are the worst. He said brightly. She thought hopefully.

Danny: She moaned helplessly.

Nora: He ran stiffly.

Danny: Is that why you’re here? To get away from all the adverbs back in New York?

Who says I’m from New York?

Aren’t you?

Nora cocked her head. Short-term memory problems?

Oh, yeah. Facts.

Nora: Anyway, there’s no getting away from adverbs. They’re rampant.

Danny: She confessed anxiously.

Nora: They’re in our heads.

She cried desperately.

Nora: I hope you don’t actually write like that.

Danny: I write for shit.

Nora: I’m an excellent writer.

She said smugly.

Nora: Not smugly. Factually.

Danny: Ah. So you’ll make an exception to brag.