Brady: Tea's ready. It's the, uh... The whatsit kind. From that place. You know, the expensive junk.
Father: Um...
Brady: Well...? Whaddya waitin' for? A royal invitation? It's all set and ready to go—just the way ya like it.
Father: Uh, Brady?
Brady: Let's step it up, old-timer! Tea ain't gettin' any hotter!
Father: Oh, right. S-sorry... *sip* ...But, Brady?
Brady: Yeah?
Father: What did you mean, "just the way I like it"? I hardly ever drink tea...
Brady: Whaddya mean? You drink it every day. You never miss teatime.
Father: I've had the odd cup here or there, but I've never had a "teatime" in my life...
Brady: ...WHAT?! Ma told me to join ya in your daily tea ritual! Even gave detailed instructions! Wait... Did she make it all up?
Father: Considering I don't even know what a "tea ritual" is, I'm guessing she did.
Brady: That dirty... I bet she's laughing her head off right about now!
Father: Er, what exactly did she tell you?
Brady: Oh, don't you worry, I'm gonna have me a nice, long chat with dear ol' Ma! You just sit there and drink your damn tea. So long, old-timer! ...Oh, and set this on top of the pot. It keeps the tea warm.
Father: ...When did my life get so weird?

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...

Brady: And then Ma pulls out that li'l umbrella of hers, and she says—
Father: Heh heh...
Brady: ...What are ya laughing for? I ain't even at the punchline yet.
Father: I'm just glad we're able to talk like this, Brady. I'll admit, I was kind of shocked when I first saw you. You seemed a bit...scary.
Brady: Yeah, well. Sorry I'm all scary. I guess if you don't like it, do a better job raising the real deal.
Father: What, you mean the Brady from this era?
Brady: Yeah. I ain't your real son, anyway. I mean, not exactly.
Father: ...... Brady, I...
Brady: Aw, what? What's with that face? I don't need no pity. Unlike some of the other kids, I ain't jealous of the Brady from this timeline. We're two different cats, yeah? No hard feelings. Once the real one's born, you can forget about me. I'll bow out all graceful-like.
Father: Brady, how can you say that after we've gotten so close? You think I'd just cast you aside once my son is born? I would never do that. You're my friend, Brady. ...And my son.
Brady: Pop, I... *sniff* Aw, damn. I'd decided not to cry, but then ya go and say crap like that... *sniffle* I was lyin' about what I said before, Pop! It does matter to me! Please don't forget me! Just...remember that we were good pals once, yeah? Real chums.
Father: I could never forget you, Son. I'll remember you till the day I die and love you as my future self would...
Brady: Okay, no more talk of dyin'. If you go boots up before me, I'll douse your grave in more tea than ya can stand. I'll play my violin and do a backflip if I have to. Don't try me, old-timer!
Father: Well then it's settled. Guess your pop can't very well die now, can he?