“He does. What, a Los Angeles class? Does he know my Navy Department. CINCPAC. Admiral? You have a willing visitor.”
Tom Clancy, silently intent on an anti-terrorism simulator  someday, enters with arms open wide.
“Freshwater? No, Tom.”
Tom Clancy, a great author who enjoyed technically going cowboy on that wall.
“It’s your rig.”
“Yes, that will do. He’s right here. Yes, he can come to the mansion. Take Patricia to the theatre.”
Tom Clancy produces dressed-to- the-nines steak ‘n Roses slicking his hair back.
“Belay that. You know what happens when a submarine goes under with 100 men?”
Tom Clancy produces dressed-to- the-nines steak ‘n Roses prophalytics.
“Read Jim Lovell’s book. How about an anti-terrorism simulator?”
“You can’t make an anti-terrorism simulator, you’ll create terrorists.”
“You can always throw a bear at a Colonel, sir.”
Many years earlier on pre-production for The Dark Tower.
Paraphrase by purported and the author, #11 and #9 of the New Zealand All Blacks, doing The Haka
“I don’t know, Richard. I’m Patricia! I’m pretty great.”
“Please! Please, be my wife.”
She was. She did. With conditions. And he won at life, so far as anyone cared to say.