Rayburn: [refering to Creasy to Miguel Manzano in the Agency for Federal Investigation Headquarters] A man can be an artist... in anything, food, whatever. It depends on how good he is at it. Creasy's art is death. He's about to paint his masterpiece.
Pita: [after helping her with her homework in the kitchen] Creasy
[pause]
Pita: You're smiling.
Creasy: What?
Pita: You were smiling.
Creasy: No, I'm not.
Pita: You were.
Creasy: No, I was not.
Pita: You're
not now, but you were.
Creasy: No, *you* were smiling, I wasn't smiling.
Pita: You were.
Creasy: When?
Pita: Like, five seconds ago.
Creasy: I'm not smiling.
Pita: Well, a second ago you were.
Creasy: No, you said five seconds ago,
now that's six. Six seconds ago I was not smiling.
Pita: Okay, 10 seconds ago.
Creasy: 10 seconds ago, I was smiling. Okay, in the next 10 seconds let's see who smiles first.
[pause]
Creasy: You smiled already. See? You did.
Pita: Mmm.
[pointing at Creasy]
Creasy:
No, that wasn't a - That was a smirk, that's not a smile. A smirk is different. They both start with "S," but they're not the same - Do your homework.
Pita: [Creasy walks away] You were.
Pita: [while doing her homework in her room] Do you have a girlfriend, Creasy?
Creasy: What?
Pita: Do you have a girlfriend?
Creasy: No. What kind of question is that, anyway? You're supposed to be studying history, okay?
Pita: It is history... Creasy history.
Creasy: No, that's ancient history.