[Lindsey is a lot crazy in exactly the right way; Slevin would agree with this assessment whole-heartedly if he knew. He would know, if he thought about it long enough, which he doesn't.

He's thinking about someone else.]

Maybe. Part of it was - is a story. Part of it... she didn't know who I was. She thought I'd just bumbled into the middle of all this, because that's what we decided. She wasn't...

I don't know anything about her. Not even her last name. [He could have had that information in a heartbeat if he'd wanted to; that's the easiest of personal information for him to find, but he hadn't.] She doesn't know anything about me.

I'm not sure that's the part of the fairytale that translates to real life, though. You know? Can that... [Be enough?

Slevin is no good at all at uncertainty.]