If they can see that much about us it doesn't really matter what we say, does it? [and he wonders how much poking the bear can take before it finally pokes back. Then they'll known just where the sensitive point is]

That's the thing. It always feels real. You're always convinced it happened. And...maybe it did. [the weight of the water, the body on the beach, the kicking of a small infant in her cot. He can't connect the dots and isn't sure he wants to]

Well, I mean you look like us so might as well be part of the family. I'm sure you'll be adopted anyway if they ever meet you. [Anthony's side anyway] As for the rest of it, I don't know why or -- or what if it is real...

What does that make us then? What does that make this?

Are we butterflies or men?