Brady: Sorry about last time, old-timer.
Father: What, the tea? You don't need to apologize for that. I was happy for the chance to chat.
Brady: Well, good. But I still feel bad you wound up drinking alone. Anyway, I brought my violin by way of apologizin'.
Father: ...I'm sorry?
Brady: Yeah, exactly. I wanna say I'm sorry, and I heard that requires a violin performance.
Father: It...does?
Brady: What, were ya born in a barn? Course it does! I gotta tickle the catgut for three songs, then do a backflip. That's when you stand up and start clappin' and cheerin' and throwin' roses. ...Er, at least, that's what Ma said.
Father: Brady, listen to me. No one has ever apologized to me that way before. ...EVER. Your mother's having fun with you again.
Brady: What, AGAIN?! Oh, that tears it! I'm gonna—
Father: Brady, wait.
Brady: What?!
Father: As long as you're here, let's just enjoy a nice chat and forget about Maribelle. I'm almost thankful, really. If not for her japes, you'd probably never have come by.
Brady: Forget Ma? But she's been playing me like a dancin'-monkey organ guy! Aw, heck. Fine. I guess I can put up with her horseplay a bit longer... It'd be nice to just sit back and chew the fat a bit.
Father: It's settled then! Pull up a seat...