Oh, wow. Well-versed in modernists
and well-acquainted with my home.
You are just full of surprises, Mr. Osbourne.
He was living here. - Of course he was.
So no job?
Well, Patrick is a freelance artist.
Oh, freelancing's not a profession, dear.
It's a hobby one has between bartending shifts.
And I could use another drink.
You've had enough. - I'll get it.
You know, after "Nightline," letters poured in from leeches
claiming to be her son.
How do we know you're not one of them?
I have the, uh...
I could have swor-- you know what I did?
I left the D.N.A. Test in my other jacket.
He's funny. Well...
Don't think you've hit the jackpot, buddy,
'cause we're broke.
Patrick is apprised of our situation.
And as difficult as it may be for any of you to believe,
there's some people driven by motivations other than financial gain.
You know, perhaps Patrick can float us a loan
from what's left of the $5 million.