David sits on his bed, quietly looking around in a state of wordless panic. Howard sneaks up behind him, closer and closer, until:
HOWARD, jumping at David, attempting to scare him: AARGH!
David jumps up, turning to face Howard in a rage.
DAVID: What was that for?
HOWARD, shrugging: I was bored.
DAVID: What a great way to entertain yourself. Scowling, he turns to his suitcase and starts rummaging through it.
HOWARD, his expression blank: I suggest you get used to it, Mister Personality.
DAVID: I'm sure I will.
HOWARD: Will you? Pause. I think that when the time comes you'll just collapse on the ground in fetal position again. As usual. He paces around the room. Or perhaps you'll just have another panic attack with screaming and everything, and Joan and Rose will have to come running back in to hold you down.
DAVID: Would you shut up, Howard?
HOWARD: No, David, don't take this the wrong way. I'm just giving you a diagnosis. Just like the doctors gave you before you were admitted here. Pause. They said you had Multiple Personality Disorder. I don't think so. No, I think you're just plain crazy.
DAVID: Everyone here is crazy. We're in an asylum.
HOWARD: Not everyone.
DAVID: Yeah? And who isn't?
HOWARD: I'm not. Rose isn't. Joan isn't.
DAVID: Joan has burned down towns and Rose doesn't know who she is. Pause. And I'm pretty sure that having no emotions is a psychological issue.
HOWARD: You'd be surprised. Lots of people out there don't have any.