Me: "Got enough room there, buddy?"
Wyatt: "Ain't my fault your face is shrinking."
Me: "No, seriously, you're a lot bigger than you used to be."
Wyatt: "You're imagining things."
Wyatt: "Oops. 'Scuse me, I gotta take this. Hey there, Lance, my man. What's the word?"
Wyatt: "Dude, you're killin' me. I'm running low. ... Aw, don't give me that shit, man. It ain't like you're competing anymore."
Wyatt: "Who? Seriously? No, I already tried him, got nowhere. Asshole accused me of being from Al Jazeera. Who else do you know that might have some?"
Wyatt: "Uh, hang on a second. ... Dude, do ya mind? This is a private conversation."
Me: "You live on my face."
Wyatt: "Yeah? Well mind your own damn business or I'll rearrange it."