Well, I think that's a great philosophy Will, that way you can go through your entire life without ever having to really know anybody.
Sean looks directly at Will, who looks away. A beat.
SEAN:
My wife used to turn the alarm clock off in her sleep. I was late for work all the time because in the middle of the night she'd roll over and turn the damn thing off.
Eventually I got a second clock and put it under my side of the bed, but it got to where she was gettin' to that one too. She was afraid of the dark, so the closet light was on all night. Thing kept me up half the night. Eventually I'd fall asleep, out of sheer exhaustion and not wake up when I was supposed to cause she'd have already gotten to my alarms.
Will smiles, Sean takes a beat.
SEAN:
My wife's been dead two years, Will.
And when I think about her, those are the things I think about most.
Little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. Those made her my wife.
And she had the goods on me too.
Little things I do out of habit.
People call these things imperfections Will. It's just who we are. And we get to choose who we're going to let into out weird little worlds. You're not perfect. And let me save you the suspense, this girl you met isn't either. The question is, whether or not you're perfect for each other.
You can know everything in the world, but the only way you're findin' that one out is by giving it a shot. You sure won't get the answer from an old f***er like me. And even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you.
Will smiles. A beat.
WILL:
Why not? You told me every other f***in' thing. You talk more than any shrink I ever met.
Sean laughs.
SEAN:
I teach this sh*t, I didn't say I knew how to do it.
WILL:
You ever think about gettin' remarried?
SEAN:
My wife's dead.
WILL:
Hence, the word remarried.
SEAN:
My wife's dead.
WILL:
Well I think that's a wonderful philosophy, Sean. That way you can go through the rest of your life without having to really know anyone.
