Ethan’s Plan

David’s head was pounding from last night's drinking binge, and the incessant knocking on his door wasn’t helping. He groaned, dragging himself off the couch and stumbling to the door. When he opened it, Ethan stood there, his expression shifting from concern to barely suppressed amusement.

Ethan: ”You look like you had a fight with a bottle of whiskey, and the whiskey won.”

David: "Funny. Come in before you wake the neighbors."

Ethan stepped inside, wrinkling his nose at the sight of empty bottles and scattered papers.

Ethan: “Seriously, David, I know you're depressed, but do you have to make it look like a frat house threw up in here?"

David: “It's called grieving, Ethan. You should try it sometime."

Ethan: “I would, but I like my liver functioning. Besides, we're not done yet."

David slumped onto the couch, rubbing his temples.

David: “What’s the plan, genius? We've tried everything."

Ethan pulled a chair closer, leaning forward.

Ethan:*We need to make Michael think he’s slippin