Wilfred: Are you sure you want to know?
Ryan Newman: Is this a joke?
Wilfred: It's not. Ryan, remember the night before we met? The pills you took?
Ryan Newman: Yes...?
Wilfred: They worked, mate. I'm sorry, Ryan. They worked. You must have notived things here are... different. Seems a little... off, right?
Ryan Newman: Am I...?
Wilfred: No. You're somewhere in between. Your future depends on the outcome of that settlement meeting tomorrow. If Jenna gets her job back, well... you get to move on.
Ryan Newman: So none of this is really happening?
Wilfred: Everything on the island is real. The rest is an illusion.
Ryan Newman: What island?
Wilfred: Ah, forget the last bit.
Ryan Newman: WILFRED!
Wilfred: Shhh! Smoke monster!
Ryan Newman: I've seen Lost, Wilfred.
Wilfred: What did you think of the ending?
Ryan Newman: Why can't I get a straight answer out of you?
Wilfred: Come on, Ryan! These are big existential questions, best left for boring Russian novelist and teenagers on acid! Real people don't think about this shit.
Ryan Newman: This is nothing compared to some of the shit you've pulled.
Wilfred: Yeah, but you're not me! You're a good person! And you're a person!
Ryan Newman: What are you doing?
Wilfred: I'm writing my will. After I'm gone, I don't want you and Bear fighting over my shit. Or any of my other stuff.