"Succinct, concise and a breeze to read," she said.
"Really." He didn't sound convinced.
"Look, where other books on writing fiction drop the ball on dialogue, this guy not only picks it up, he spins it on one finger. . . and he tells us the same thing." She took a sip of beer and leaned into him. "We need to know our characters."
He grimaced. Took another slice of pizza and let the white, oily cheese pull across the plate. "Not that again."
"You know it's a juggling act. All the mincing - or not mincing - of words. Making it tense. Or alluding to something." She pulled a piece of crust apart. "Shutting a character up at the right time. It's all in there."
"Huh. Well, I'm not there yet. I'm still working on the plot."
"You'll get there."
"Can I borrow yours?"
She swallowed the beer. "Buy your own."