Nat: I kinda wanna go back to this look, but with my fuller facial hair.
Angela: Oh god, you totally just sent that to link to yourself in the New York Times.
Nat: You wish. That was just the first hit when I Googled it. Don't hate my fame, Angela.
Angela: Can I hate your crippling narcissism?
Nat: If you weren't already overburdened with your own.
Angela: I guess that's why we're friends.
Nat: (on-the-town montage!!!!!!!)
Angela: (lindy hoppers!!!)
Nat: (maggot-riddled gangster corpses!!!)
Angela: (don knotts in a bikini! don knotts in a bikini!)
Nat: (oh god, I hope he's making chicken florentine!!!)
Angela: (he was going to but he's still freaked out about that tainted spinach scare from two years ago! he's such a worrier!)
Nat: (it's 'cause his sister died young, remember?)