They’re on the elevator on the third floor, trying to get to the basement. He pushes the button for the lobby, realizes his mistake, and hits the basement button. Only the lobby button lights up.
She says, “That’s the wrong button.”
“I can see that,” he says, stabbing the “B” repeatedly.
“I’m just saying.”
“Can’t you see that I see I made a mistake?”
“I just didn’t know if you knew it.”
“You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I wasn’t trying to chastise you, I’m just trying to get out of here.”
“Oh come on. You’re not my mother. Don’t micromanage me.” She keeps her eyes on the door and doesn’t say a word. “You know, if you pushed the wrong button and I said something about it, you’d be so mad.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You’d call me a dick if I did that.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth, you know. You’re making this up.”
“You’d call me an asshole.” He stabs the button to punctuate each syllable: “Mo-ther-fuck-ing ass-hole.”