"The Dementors are abroad."
"The what are what?"
"Clearly, they have fled Azkaban and are abroad. There's no other excuse."
"I'm not even going to ask."
"It's catastrophes like this that Rory wanted to report on, Luke."
"I know."
"I mean, we sit here, watching this horror on CNN for hours, and I know that's where Rory should be. Covering something like this for NPR... or something. Helping out, anyway. Making a difference. It's what she always wanted to do. And no one would be better at it."
"Maybe she's changed her mind about what she wants to do."
"Maybe. But I think she got scared. Just scared. And, we all get scared sometimes. I mean, I stopped at a light behind a guy in a pick-up the other day, and watched him open his door and spit something horrible and black right on the street. I was scared, let me tell you. I mean, that scared me! And made me throw up in my mouth a little, actually..."
"Ah, jeez..."
"...But, I didn't knee-jerk, blind myself, and stop driving forever, did I? I pressed that accelerator down and kept right on driving—despite knowing full well there is now something disgustingly crusty on my tire. But that's what you do in life. You don't give up."
"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?"
"My charm."
"Ah. Right."
"And, who's side are you on, anyway?"
"Do you really need me to remind you of that?"
"No, I don't. No one has ever been on my side the way you have, babe."
"Well, someone's got to love you, what with revolting black crust on your tire and all."
"Ick! There's no need to be so graphic, Mister."
"Turn off the TV. We need a break from this."
"I'm going to go call and make another donation to the Red Cross."
"Fine."
"And then I'm going to call Rory."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think that's a great idea. Why'd you change your mind?"
"Because life's too short, Luke. Look how long you and I waited. Look how long those people have waited for help."
"You're right. Too long. Tell her to come for coffee."
"I will."
"I'll wait for you upstairs."
"Um...hun?"
"I'll wash your jeep tomorrow."