Charles: You're right, it's pretty gross. You don't bake bread. Let me take it off your hands.
Gina: Oh, Charles. [laughing] Charles, Charles, Charles. You already showed your cards, baby boy. You know how badly you want this, so you're gonna have to pay for it.
Charles: Gina, please.
Gina: No, I'll take $10,000.
Charles: What? Are you out of your mind?
Gina: Probably.
Charles: You don't even want that. You said it smelled like death.
Gina: I thought it did, but now [sniffs] [groans] Smells like opportunity.
Charles: Ugh.
Gina: Oh, God, it really does smell bad. My eyes hurt.