Pita: You're late.
Creasy: I'm sorry.
Pita: Where's my mother?
Creasy: I dropped her at home.
Pita: It's no wonder you're late. Why didn't she just come with you?
[Creasy doesn't answer]
Pita: Do you think my mom likes you?
Creasy: I think she's afraid of me. But not the same way most people are.
Pita: I'm not afraid of you.
Creasy: I know you're not.
Pita: Are you afraid of me?
Creasy: I used to be. At first. But not any more.
Pita: Good.