Breach | 2007

Can I trust you?

Jesus!

God's sakes, what is wrong with you?

Look around you, boss.

It's just us out here.

Nobody's tailing you, there isn't any GPS on your car,

and I'm not a foreign agent trying to work you.

You don't matter that much.

The page was from Juliana, obviously. My wife.

She's trying to reach me because I told her I'd be home by now,

and because we're in another fight,

caused by you, as usual.

Thanks for dropping by unannounced and lecturing her about Opus Dei.

That was real helpful.

Oh, and thanks for staring at her in church like she was from Mars.

That also worked out great.

Let me guess.

You were testing her, too.

You know, she asked me this morning why you're like this.

Why you grind everybody so hard.

I had all these answers ready.

"He's misunderstood.

"He's trying to fix the Bureau and no one will listen.

"He was born in the wrong century. His father was a jerk."

I got a whole list.

But you know something, sir?

At the end of the day,

it's all crap.

You are who you are.

The why doesn't mean a thing, does it?

Does it?

I

matter

plenty.