Catching up to Alick, Forrest said, "You'd be happy to see me sad, wouldn't you?"

Alick, who was still recovering and walking with difficulty, glanced back and responded, "Why should you be sad? You have a daughter. I don't."

Mention of his daughter shifted Forrest's mood. "Yes, I do have a daughter, and neither you nor Isaac do."

Alick was momentarily at a loss for words.

This man could really be exasperating!

He muttered under his breath about future possibilities of parenthood.

“If Mr. Johnston heard you now, he'd give you a good slap," Alick remarked dryly.

"I've said the same thing in front of him," Forrest boasted.

Alick gave him a reluctant thumbs up. "You're bold. But please, spare me the comments for now. I need to go entertain the guests."

Realizing he might have overstepped, Forrest conceded, "Go on then. I'll come along."

He offered his support, acknowledging Alick's slow recovery.

Alick acknowledged his gesture. "Thank you."

“Why so formal?" Forrest responded, slinging an arm around Alick's shoulder.

Alick, adjusting his disheveled suit, pushed him away. "You're wrinkling my clothes."

Once again, Forrest was left without words.

"Isn't it just a suit?" Forrest lifted his arm, questioning, "You really think that suit matters more than me?"

Alick nodded, straightforwardly. "Yeah, the suit's pretty important."

Forrest was stunned into silence, caught off guard by the response.

He turned sharply and strode away.

Quickly grabbing him, Alick asked, “Hey, come on, I was just joking. You didn't take that seriously, did you?"