"Drew, I'm Charlotte's attorney, Mr. Hershowitz," said the man as he calmly walked into the foyer of 53 Briar Street Place. Despite his prosperity, he had a charismatic voice which could easily soothe a working class hero. However, Drew certainly wasn't working class, and somehow suspected that he was not about to be rewarded for his heroism either. "I hope my visit didn't come as a shock to you."
"Not at all!" clarified Drew. "I mean, I am a teensy bit perturbed. I could have sworn I dreamed you up when my daughter was three years old. You look like the lawyer from my dreams."
Mr. Hershowitz gasped, becoming somewhat enraged. "Drew, was that a pickup line? I'll have you know, I don't swing that way, though Charlotte affirmed to me that you do, not that there's anything wrong with that. However, I'm afraid that your excessive affairs with extramarital men has had a negative effect on the life of your wife. Just about an hour ago, the Federal Bureau of Investigations paid an equally unexpected visit to your abode. I don't know where you were at the time, hopefully not with another man—by the way, Charlotte actually joked that you've slept with every male on Earth but Barney the Dinosaur—but your loving wife has been arrested. Insider trading was the crime they gave her."
"And you're blaming my private liaisons with expensive men for my wife's own illicit fiscal behaviors?" asked Drew.
"Mr. Pickles, do you mind if I call you 'Andrew?'"
"You called me 'Drew' just a minute ago."
"So I did. The mind works in curious ways when a woman's reputation is at stake, perhaps you will soon learn that. Mr. Drew, in my decades of defending clients, I have known many a woman in my spare time, and while it may have unfortunate implications, it seems that when a woman's husband engages in numerous affairs with other men, it has significantly more drastic effects upon the woman's career than if the same husband were to engage in numerous affairs with the opposite gender. Do you follow, Mr. Pickles? Do you yet realize what you have done?"
"I think I need a minute alone," said Drew.
"I don't believe you, Mr. Pickles! I highly doubt—and if I may be frank, Charlotte doubts as well—that you've ever spent a nanosecond alone! When you go upstairs, I'm sure some creep in a Clifford suit will be there to give you an undeserved golden shower! Go back where you came from, Drew! Or better yet, a place so isolated, so secluded from the real world that you'll never tempt the fate of such a successful, luscious, delectable fox ever again!"