Some Guy: I want to come and see your work.
Sati: No.
SG: No?
Sati: No.
SG: Why not?
Sati: I like my privacy. My kids like their privacy.
SG: No you don't. You blog about everything.
Sati: Not anymore.
SG: I'm going to find out one day, you know. I have resources. Somewhere you'll have written some little detail that'll let me pin it down. Someone, somewhere, knows you.
Sati: If it's that important to you, have at it.
A week later...
SG: Shit.
Sati: Find out?
SG: You're like a ghost. [Space Ghoooost! Ahem.]
Sati: Thought not.
SG: I might hire a PI. What have you got to say about that?
Sati: If it makes you happy.
SG: Really?
Sati: If you find out, you find out.
The next day...
SG: I don't think you have a job at all.
Sati: Okay.
SG: Okay?
Sati: It's a valid theory.
SG: You probably sit home all day reading romance and watching Jeremy Kyle.
Sati: Now you're getting somewhere.
SG: What?
Sati: I do both those things.
SG: Why doesn't this bother you?
Sati: If you think I don't work, you're not going to go looking for it, are you?
SG: So you'd rather people think you've been lying for years about having a job than know where that job is.
Sati: Pretty much, yeah.
SG: ...
Sati: *raises eyebrows*
SG: You're weird.
Sati: Yes, I suppose so.
