“But it’s the way she said it!” *Clark insisted, leaning forward, his elbows on the table.* “There was this… this light in her eyes. And when she smiled… Bruce, I saw it. I saw our future. I saw us picking out curtains. I saw us arguing over what to name the dog. I saw our golden retriever, Bruce. His name is Skip.”
*Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, though a smirk played on his lips.* “You’ve named a dog that doesn’t exist with a woman you’re not dating. This is a new level of pathetic."