Rough around the edges...

Fitzgerald: Our lady appears a bit rough around the edges.
Eric: More like rode hard and put away wet.
Ian: I beg your pardon?
Jack: Horse jargon.
George: My fault.
Benjamin: What did you do?
George: Woke her at two.
Richard: This morning?
George: My most humble apologies.
James: No, George, it's my fault.
Eric: Actually, it's mine.
Jack: This should be good.
Fitzgerald: Explanations, gentlemen.
George: She's researching Waterloo.
James: She's been editing.
Eric: She wrote my story in one month.
Ian: She only writes one or two thousand words a day.
Eric: Not this time.
Jack: Do tell.
Eric: Five thousand words a day and then a complete rewrite.
Ian: She learned something new about herself.
Fitzgerald: She's created a new best to beat.
Benjamin: Shhh.
Fitzgerald: What?
Benjamin: She'll hear you.
Ian: Of course, she'll hear. She isn't deaf.
George: What are you prattling about, Benji?
Jack: Benji?
Benjamin: Stubble it, Jack.
Richard: Gentleman, it behooves us to help not hinder.
Ian: What may we do?
Fitzgerald: Encourage her competitive spirit.
Benjamin: I fear she'll wear herself out.
Richard: It is our duty to ensure she does not.
Jack: Encourage her without browbeating her.
Richard: Do you not see the irony of such advice from you?
Jack: I've not harried her of late.
Eric: It's true.
James: She's settling into a routine.
Jack: She is accepting she is a writer.
Fitzgerald: Now if she'll only give my cohort a name.
James: Here we go.
Jack: At least it wasn't me, this time.