[Angrily entering his room to his roommate Mitch Roman]

You told Walcott I cheated. I know you did it, just tell me why.

Look, cut the crap, Hunter. I live with you, I know how much you study, or should I say "don't" study. And you do better than me? Give me a break.

You arrogant, pompous prick! Who appointed you custodian in medical profession? Is it because your father was a doctor, and his father was a doctor? Is it some sort of genetic thing?

You're damn right.

Really?

You know, I grew up with it. I know what it takes to look in the eyes of dying people day after day after day and then come home for dinner at night. I know what it takes. You don't have it.

Oh, really? And you do? If you don't like me, just say it.

I don't like you!

Why don't you like me? You're a prick, and I like you.

Because you make my effort a joke! I want to be a doctor! This isn't a game to me! This isn't play time! This is serious business! I have it in me to be a great doctor! But in order to do that, I have to sacrifice in order to be better.

Better? Better than me?

I will save lives that have otherwise not been saved. Now, I can be like you, and go around laughing and have a good time, ha-ha, but I prefer to learn. Because the more I learn, the more likely I will have the right answer the crucial moment and save a life. And you say I'm a prick? You say I'm a prick? You know, maybe I am. But you ask the average person when death comes knocking at their door, whether they'll want a prick on their side, or some kindergarten teacher who's gonna kiss their ass! Because when that day comes, I'll want the prick, and so will you.

[Leaving the room]

You know, I forget how young you are, Mitch. That you think that you have to be a prick to get things done, and that you actually think that that's a new idea.