I can't breathe in this thing, and I'm itchy. I'm itching all over.

It's not all about comfort.

Okay? We're academics.

Who are evidently coming straight from Easter brunch.

Also, this bra that you gave me is really pinching my boobs.

Okay. Could you just let me do the [?]? If that's even possible?

It's not only possible, it's inevitable.

Because shortly, I'll be dead from strangulation.

3.9 GPAs.

Both of you.

Impressive.

And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantley.

Yeah, I know Larry. Quite well, actually.

Eh, you know what they say.

"Those who can't do, teach."

Uh, yes, yes, that's actually why we're [?].

I mean, we can only learn so much in a classroom.

Mmm.

And I'm sympathetic to your struggle, truly.

But there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor.

You put in a request

and then undergo a screening process,

at which point the board will make a decision.

I can [?] you're disappointed.

But I'm more than happy to give you a tour.

Perhaps you can even speak to some patients in our low-security wing.

And we'd… we would love that.

It's just that, um…

…our thesis is due next month.

And you're out of [?].

Whose fault is that?

Ours. Absolutely.

And I do apologize--

Don't apologize, Ruth. Screw that.

The fact is, we did put in a request months ago and were denied.

And then we reapplied and were denied again.

And coming here was our last-ditch effort to save our thesis.

And I really… I can't breathe in this [?].

Well, Rose, maybe you'd like to go outside and get some air.

-Maybe I should, Ruth. -Mm-hmm.

Because I'm starting to think this whole thing is a colossal mistake.

I'm breaking out in a rash.

My boobs hurt. And I'll tell you the truth, Anthony.

May I call you Anthony? These aren't my [?].

I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously.

Because nobody takes girls seriously in this field. They just don't.

We don't look the part or whatever. But can I tell you a story?

-1978, I was at summer camp.

And my counselor Drew told me and everyone in Cabin C

the [?] story of the Victor Creel Massacre.

And little Petey McHew… You know Petey, right, Ruth?

Of… Of course.

Yeah. Little Petey McHew started sobbing right there on the spot.

Full-on hyperventilating.

The other campers couldn't sleep for weeks.

I couldn't either, but not 'cause I was scared.

Because I was obsessed with the question,

"What would drive a human being to commit such unimaginable acts?"

Other kids wanted to be astronauts, basketball players, rock stars.

But I wanted to be you.

I wanted to be you.

So, [?] me if I'll now try anything in my power,

including wearing this ridiculous outfit,

if I might get to speak to the man that ignited my passion

and learn a little more about how his twisted, but let's face it,

totally fascinating mind works.

So, yes, we don't have the official [?],

but don't tell me that cry-baby Petey McHew

wouldn't have gotten an audience with Victor in moments

if he'd asked politely,

because you and I both know that he would.

So… ten [?] with Victor.

That's all I ask.