REBECCA MILLER: Darling, you look so dapper.
DANIEL DAY-LEWIS: Thanks, sweetness. I thought it was about time; I'm tired of lumberjack plaid. You look gorgeous, too, of course.
REBECCA: We're so in love.
DANIEL: Although...
REBECCA: Wait, what? I never said anything before about the plaid or those silly earrings, and now you're giving me an "although"?
DANIEL: It's just... you're marvelous, but the dress is a bit Death Of An Accessories Salesman.
REBECCA: Daniel, if you want to throw my father's work in my face, he ALSO wrote a radio play called The Pussycat and The Plumber Who Was A Man, which is what we USUALLY look like when we leave the house. Well, minus the cat. But you get my point.
DANIEL: No, I...
REBECCA: Maybe I wanted a turn being the wacky one. Did you ever think of that?
DANIEL: All I'm saying is, what if someone comes up and tries to use the door-knocker on your breasts? Then it's all "knockers" puns, all the time, AND I'll have to punch someone. And I'm just not that guy.
REBECCA: No. You far prefer to be wearing your wood-cutting loafers than starting fights.
DANIEL: At least I might have made these myself.
REBECCA: Well, maybe I made this, too. You don't know. You're not the only crafty one in the family.
DANIEL: Let's not squabble. Let's just agree that we're both a little crazy, and then go home and recreate that scene from Ghost but with my cobbling equipment.
REBECCA: You naughty crumpet! I can't wait. Make your acceptance speech short.
