BLAIR: So are you going to homecoming?

HANNAH: I don’t know yet.

BLAIR: No one’s asked you?

HANNAH: I don’t know if I even want them to. It’s lame, right?

BLAIR: It’s not so bad if you got someone to go with. And I guess even if you don’t… I don’t know. Lots of folks’ll be there, right?

HANNAH: But you’re taking Rose, right?

BLAIR: Yeah.

HANNAH: How’s that going?

BLAIR: Good. Why? How else would it be going?

HANNAH: You mean other than the fact that she’s not the one you wanted?

BLAIR: She’s the one I’m with, though. Look—Sandy, she was never an option.

HANNAH: Did you even try? Did you even go there?

BLAIR: What the fuck makes you think I didn’t go there?

HANNAH: I just… don’t understand why…

BLAIR: What?

HANNAH: Why any girl in her right mind would not want to date you. You’re still friends with her, right? Sandy?

BLAIR: Yeah.

HANNAH: Is she, like, a lesbian?

BLAIR: No.

HANNAH: Are you sure?

BLAIR: It’s like she’s… I don’t know, sometimes it’s just… it’s like she’s just above it all. You know?

HANNAH: Above what?

BLAIR: All of it. Relationships, sex. It’s like she’s been there and…

HANNAH: Did you ever make a move?

BLAIR: I wouldn’t even know how. And you know, the more I think about it…

HANNAH: What?

BLAIR: I’m not even sure that I really… want… her. Sandy.

HANNAH: You have been pining over her all year, so, like–

BLAIR: I have not–

HANNAH: Uh, yeah, actually, you have.

BLAIR: It’s just, do you ever… I mean, I don’t know, ‘cause you’re a girl–

HANNAH: Oh, really? I’m a girl?

BLAIR: I mean, you know what I mean–

HANNAH: No, I don’t think I do. Enlighten me.

BLAIR: Guys have… you know… fantasies.

HANNAH: About sex?

BLAIR: Yeah.

HANNAH: Hold on, do you seriously think that I don’t fantasize about sex?

BLAIR: … Well…

HANNAH: Oh, honey.

BLAIR: I mean, okay, yeah, I guess there is that–

HANNAH: Is this going somewhere?

BLAIR: When I fantasize… I mean, I’ve tried, but… I just can’t seem to fantasize about her. She’s all… it’s like she’s…

HANNAH: Out of your league?

BLAIR: It’s like she’s on a whole other planet. Like she’s a different species that isn’t even compatible.

HANNAH: I know what that feels like…

BLAIR: But anyway, there’s Rose.

HANNAH: Right.

BLAIR: So you want me to help find you a date? For homecoming?

HANNAH: No.

BLAIR: You sure?
HANNAH: No.

BLAIR: Think I could get Alex to—

HANNAH: Ew. No. Thanks, though.

BLAIR: Anyway, thanks for the talk.

HANNAH: You’re welcome. For the talk. Hey, Blair?

BLAIR: Hm?

HANNAH: Tell Rose I said hi, OK?

BLAIR: OK.

HANNAH: OK.

CHAD CHETWIN: Hey, there.

LILY LASSITER: Oh, shit, really?

CHAD: Um… I’m sorry?

LILY: No, I’m sorry, it’s just… All right, fine, let’s hear it.

CHAD: Hear… what?

LILY: The line. Come on, give me the line, what is it?

CHAD: What… line? You mean a pick-up line?

LILY: Yeah! What, you don’t have one?

CHAD: I… no–

LILY: What kind of guy comes to a bar and doesn’t have a pick-up line ready?

CHAD: I don’t know, they usually just… happen.

LILY: Well, you’re an attractive enough guy, you probably don’t even really need one, you probably got women falling all over you all the time.

CHAD: Well, I mean… I don’t know, I like to think it’s more ‘cause I’m… you know, I’m a sensitive guy.

LILY: A sensitive guy? A sensitive guy? Oh, wow! Oh my God, that’s adorable.

CHAD: What? I am!

LILY: Is that why you came over here? Is it? Is it because you’re a sensitive guy?

CHAD: Well… yeah, I mean, why not?

LILY: Is it because you sensed that I was in some kind of distress and needed your company and while you’re at it, maybe even your cock?

CHAD: … Do you?

LILY: You are just too freaking much.

CHAD: What? You looked lonely.

LILY: You didn’t come over here because I looked lonely.

CHAD: Well, then why did I come over here?

LILY: You tell me.

CHAD: Can I buy you a drink?

LILY: Nope. Not until you tell me why you came over here. Why me? What can you tell about me just by looking at me? From across the room, what can you tell about me?

CHAD: What do you want from me?

LILY: Answer the question.

CHAD: You’re in a bar. A singles bar. You’re at the bar. And you’re wearing that.

LILY: Oh, so it’s what I’m wearing, now?

CHAD: What do you want from me?

LILY: What do you want from me?

CHAD: No, I answered your question, things I can tell just by looking at you from across the room–

LILY: That wasn’t an answer, and it’s not what I asked–

CHAD: Wasn’t an answer? Jesus!

LILY: No, you weren’t being honest with me.

CHAD: Oh, I wasn’t bein–so now you know me better than I know me? OK, answer me this. What kind of person comes to a singles bar just to be a bitch to guys trying to be nice to her?

LILY: You see that girl over there? She’s been sitting here longer than I have, you’re the third guy who’s come up to me, care to guess how many drinks she’s gotten? See how her eyes keep going around the room–no, don’t stare, that’s rude. See how she’s looking around, though? I’m here waiting for my publicist, who wants to meet me at a bar because guess what, she’s not the kind of girl guys go after either. Now she’s late, and I have to deal with assholes who think that just because I’m pretty means I need their attention. Have a nice life, asshole.

HENDRIX: You got it?

REED: I got it.

HENDRIX: Well, that should make Tanner happy. You wanna tell him?

REED: You tell him. He gets too excited when I talk.

HENDRIX: Seriously? Didn’t you just move in with your boyfriend? He needs to back off.

REED: Are you gonna tell him that?

HENDRIX: Isn’t that such a sad situation, though? Wait, but you did move in with him, right?

REED: With Darryl. Yeah. Yesterday. We just spent our first night together in our new place. Well, my new place. His old place. But I’ve officially taken charge of the kitchen.

HENDRIX: Really? That’s so 1950s.

REED: You haven’t seen him try to cook. I’ll make him help me, though. Just because it’s my kitchen doesn’t mean he’s not my, like, slave. You know?

HENDRIX: Even if it was his kitchen, he should still be your slave. But seriously, though, how long have you been dating that guy?

REED: Two months.

HENDRIX: And you started dating, like, right after you met him, right?

REED: We spent a couple weeks flirting at the bookstore. Although, I had to tell him after the fact that it counted as flirting.

HENDRIX: Is he really that clueless?

REED: He’s really just shy. I don’t know. I like it. Better than the alternative, anyway.

HENDRIX: Which is what?

REED: Tanner.

HENDRIX: Good point. But, like, seriously, though, two months?

REED: I know. I know. It’s quick.

HENDRIX: It’s kinda crazy.

REED: That’s kind of how I feel about him, though. And I mean, you know me, I do not… I do not feel that way easily. I’m not one of those girls. I don’t know. He just gets me.

HENDRIX: But do you really know him? Like, have you met his parents?

REED: I have actually Skyped with his parents. So while I haven’t met them in person, I almost feel closer to them right now than I do to my own parents–

HENDRIX: And has he met your parents?

REED: No, but that’s my fault, I don’t want to introduce him to my parents.

HENDRIX: Yeah, OK, I guess that’s fair. Are we gonna use this?

REED: How many have we got?

HENDRIX: Like, umpteen. And a half.

REED: Well, we’re not using the half.

HENDRIX: Right, but what about this one?

REED: I think we got enough.

HENDRIX: You think so?

REED: Yeah.

HENDRIX: But you’re not sure?

REED: I am, like, ninety-five percent sure that we will not need that specific–what are you getting at?

HENDRIX: Are you more or less sure of this jam than you are about moving in with your boyfriend?

REED: Give me that! Bitch! That is not funny!

HENDRIX: I had you going there for a second.

REED: I cannot believe you!

HENDRIX: OK, so, on your wedding day–

REED: Oh, God!

HENDRIX: Because I will totally be your Maid of Honor, let’s face this. On our wedding day, this is going to be the story that I tell. And I am going to include–

REED: The fact that you did it just so could talk about it on my wedding-day?

HENDRIX: And I am going to include your answer. Are you more sure of this–what’s this called?

REED: It’s a brace! Honestly, you call yourself a carpenter?

HENDRIX: Are you more sure of this brace than you are of your current boyfriend?

REED: No.

HENDRIX: No? You’re not?

REED: Wait, what?

HENDRIX: You’re less sure about your boyfriend than you are about this brace?

REED: No! What? That’s not funny!

HENDRIX: This is gonna be the best wedding story ever!

REED: You are being purposefully confusing! And also, I am not getting married.

HENDRIX: Yet.

REED: Yet.

HENDRIX: But at the rate you’re going–

REED: Hey!

CATHERINE: Hey.

DAMIAN: Cathérine…

CATHERINE: You’re leaving already?

DAMIAN: Yes, I…

CATHERINE: What?

DAMIAN: Can I speak with you for a moment?

CATHERINE: Why else would I be here? What is it?

DAMIAN: I’m leaving.

CATHERINE: As in… leaving?

DAMIAN: For New York. Tonight.

CATHERINE: Why?

DAMIAN: It’s uh… it’s complicated. It’s family. Business. The family business, it’s this whole—I don’t know. It’s complicated.

CATHERINE: How long will you be gone?

DAMIAN: The ticket is one way. Not that I won’t come back, but… I’m moving. There. To New York. Permanently.

CATHERINE: When were you going to tell me?

DAMIAN: I wanted to, I just… I don’t know, I kept…

CATHERINE: Damian… when were you going to tell me?

DAMIAN: Listen, Cathérine—

CATHERINE: Oh, God.

DAMIAN: I didn’t want to make a huge deal out of this—

CATHERINE: How is this not a big deal?

DAMIAN: What are you angry about?

CATHERINE: Are you serious? You’re serious.

DAMIAN: Katrientje—

CATHERINE: Don’t you dare!

DAMIAN: No, you’re right, I should have told you. It’s good manners, I suppose. Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that.

CATHERINE: Good manners? Good manners is telling your girlfriend about your moving to another country? How about making her the first person you tell?

DAMIAN: He is a business partner—

CATHERINE: I am your girlfriend! Aren’t I? Do you even want me to come with you?

DAMIAN: Is that what you want? I don’t know how you’d—

CATHERINE: It’s not about wanting, Damian, I—

DAMIAN: I’m not going to ask you to uproot your life—

CATHERINE: Well, good.

DAMIAN: Why do you even care so much?

CATHERINE: It just would have been nice to be consulted. To be told.

DAMIAN: Well, now I’ve told you. Look, I don’t want to leave this on bad terms.

CATHERINE: Why not?

DAMIAN: I will be back—

CATHERINE: Damian.

DAMIAN: No, you’re right.

CATHERINE: Can you at least admit it? That I was only ever a quick fuck to you?

DAMIAN: That isn’t all you’ve been. But yes, our relationship always did have a shelf-life.

CATHERINE: What should I do with this key?

DAMIAN: You could give it to him, I suppose.

CATHERINE: And what should I do with myself?

DAMIAN: Come, now. I may have bruised your pride, but you know as well as I, I haven’t broken your heart. Friends?

CATHERINE: I’ll get back to you.

JACK: What you looking at?

PRISCILLA: Water. Lots and lots of water.

JACK: I know, right? Classic. Or should I say “classical”—get it?

PRISCILLA: Cute.

JACK: Check out Delos.

PRISCILLA: She’s not so hot.

JACK: That was Apollo’s island. It’s where he was born.

PRISCILLA: Don’t forget Artemis.

JACK: How could I?

PRISCILLA: Always was partial to Athena, myself.

JACK: Yeah, you are.

PRISCILLA: Jack, why are we here?

JACK: You said you always wanted to go.

PRISCILLA: It was all so sudden, though. I mean, thanks, obviously, just…

JACK: Look… I was gonna wait. Do this somewhere… maybe on the stage at Epidavros or something, but… maybe here, on the deck of the nigh ferry, just the two of us…

PRISCILLA: The fuck is that?

JACK: What’s it look like?

PRISCILLA: It looks like a pearl.

JACK: I know how much you like oysters.

PRISCILLA: You know how much I—are you serious?

JACK: It’s a perfect pearl, ‘Scilla.

PRISCILLA: But that’s not… ugh…

JACK: Priscilla—

PRISCILLA: How can you not know that it’s bad luck to have a pearl for an engagement ring?

JACK: Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.

PRISCILLA: It’s just the pressure, OK? Pearls are fragile—it’s not like I could wear it all the time!

JACK: Look, you don’t have to. I’m not the kinda guy who likes to hang a label.

PRISCILLA: But I want a ring that I can actually wear without being afraid that I might break it.

JACK: So you do want a ring?

PRISCILLA: What?

JACK: ‘Scilla, this isn’t just a ring. You know it isn’t.

PRISCILLA: Right. Yeah, no, obviously.

JACK: So that’s a yes? Hold on, got to do this right—will you marry me?

PRISCILLA: Will you get me a decent ring?

JACK: I really thought you’d like it.

PRISCILLA: I’m sorry. I do.

JACK: Is that a yes?

PRISCILLA: What?

JACK: Priscilla….

PRISCILLA: Oh. Yeah, no. Of course.

JACK: Thank you.

PRISCILLA: M-hm.

JACK: Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world—or at least on the night-ferry.

PRISCILLA: I don’t know, we got all those Brazillians here and their team just won.

JACK: Priscilla—

PRISCILLA: I know, I know, I love you, too.

SIMON: What’s this?

LYDIA: Exactly what it looks like.

SIMON: I’m sorry, no, I’m still confused.

LYDIA: Shame, that.

SIMON: Are you going to visit your mom’s?

LYDIA: Not exactly.

SIMON: Then where are you going? You gotta be going somewhere, right, or are you just using the suitcases to reorganize ‘cause of how OCD you are about that stuff?

LYDIA: Are you finished?

SIMON: With what?

LYDIA: Being snarky!

SIMON: I wasn’t… Look, Lydia—

LYDIA: Don’t.

SIMON: Don’t what? Don’t touch you? I think you owe me an explanation here.

LYDIA: I disagree.

SIMON: You are not being fair.

LYDIA: Well, that’s a change, then, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Simon?

SIMON: What the hell is that supposed to mean? Lydia? Lydia!

LYDIA: I don’t want to talk about this—

SIMON: Well, I do! You said we were good.

LYDIA: I didn’t—

SIMON: Yes. You did.

LYDIA: Only because you…

SIMON: What?

LYDIA: Get out of my way. Please.

SIMON: You think you’re the only one in pain? What the fuck, Lydia!

LYDIA: This isn’t even about that!

SIMON: Like shit it isn’t!

LYDIA: And how the fuck are you making this about you?

SIMON: Because I’m the one you’re leaving!

LYDIA: Oh! That’s right! You’re the victim, aren’t you? Poor, downtrodden Simon! How will you live without me for your punching-bag—

SIMON: Excuse me!

LYDIA: Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

SIMON: I never laid a hand on you!

LYDIA: You didn’t have to. All you had to do was… “Lydia, why are there still dishes in the sink?” “Lydia, why are you late home after a doctor’s appointment?”—

SIMON: Oh, for chrissakes—

LYDIA: “Lydia, where were you?” “Lydia, are you really wearing that? You’re asking to get raped!”—

SIMON: I never said—

LYDIA: “Lydia, who’s that guy? Is he hotter than me? Are you cheating on him with me?”

SIMON: Oh, come on, that was—

LYDIA: “Lydia, why can’t I find my socks that are right the fuck where they are supposed to be—“

SIMON: Jesus Christ!

LYDIA: And then… And then one day you said something that was unforgivable. And you know what that was.

SIMON: I’m sorry—

LYDIA: Don’t. Don’t, Simon. I don’t care how sorry you are. It wasn’t the only blow, it was just the worst, and really… really, I should thank you for it. We were never really meant to be together in the first place—

SIMON: Lydia—

LYDIA: What did I say about touching me? Look, we were only ever even a thing because… but now that’s over. That’s over.

SIMON: Please don’t leave me.

LYDIA: You haven’t given me a reason.

SIMON: I don’t think I can do this without you.

LYDIA: Oh, and you’ve been so supportive of me throughout this whole process.

SIMON: Lydia. Please.

LYDIA: This is called emotional manipulation. And it’s sweet that you think I’ll care and all, after all this… But you have to understand that I know that it’s bullshit.

SIMON: Fine. You know what? Fine. Leave. Leave! Huh?

LYDIA: Hey!

SIMON: That’s right! Get the fuck out of—This is my house, bitch! Get the fuck out of here! You bitch! You ungrateful cunt! Where the fuck would you be now, if it wasn’t for me? Huh?

LYDIA: Well, I suppose I should be grateful that you’re not getting violent.

SIMON: Where are you gonna go?

LYDIA: I’m not going to tell you.

SIMON: I’ll figure it out—

LYDIA: No, you won’t.

SIMON: I’ll find you!

LYDIA: I’m sorry—were you trying to make that sound romantic?

SIMON: Who is he? This guy you’re leaving me for? You think you’ll like him any better?

LYDIA: Goodbye, Simon.

RYAN: It’s you.

CERIDWEN: Good morning, Mr. Manning. Please. Sit down.

RYAN: Are you for real?

CERIDWEN: I am Agent Entwhistle, I’m with the FBI—

RYAN: Are you fucking with me?

CERIDWEN: I’m just here to do my job. Sir.

RYAN: Sir? It’s been ten years. Is this what you’ve been doing with yourself?

CERIDWEN: I’m here to talk about the incident—

RYAN: Yeah, I bet you are. Do they know?

CERIDWEN: They know. The ones who need to. They’re the FBI, it’s kind of their job.

RYAN: Did you really just call me “Sir”?

CERIDWEN: I thought you liked it when I treated you like an authority figure. I’m sorry, that was…

RYAN: You. That was you. And here I thought you were trying to be professional. It’s been ten years, Kerry.

CERIDWEN: I know exactly how long it’s been.

RYAN: Why even come back at all?

CERIDWEN: Maybe you haven’t been listening—

RYAN: This is the FBI. Surely, there are other people who could have come to do this.

CERIDWEN: I go where they send me.

RYAN: So I guess you just don’t even care, then? What do you expect me to tell her?

CERIDWEN: How about something like “The FBI had to talk to me about an incident at work.” Won’t she be excited?

RYAN: You don’t even want her to know that you’re here?

CERIDWEN: Do you? How’s Judith?

RYAN: Emphezema. Arthritis. Not too bad.

CERIDWEN: And that girl? The one who was there?

RYAN: What about her?

CERIDWEN: Is that enough small talk?

RYAN: We have a daughter together, Kerry. Nothing is small talk. Come on, you asked about my mom, you asked about my girlfriend—

CERIDWEN: I have a job to do.

RYAN: She asks about you. You wanna know what I tell her?

CERIDWEN: Is it anything like what you said to me? Before I left?

RYAN: Why did you come back? Is this really what you want to do? Is that why you left?

CERIDWEN: I was sixteen. You were an authority figure, like it or not—is that something you expected me to just live with? God dammit, Ryan, what did you want? I was sixteen! Did you really want me raising her with you? I did exactly what they tell sixteen-year-olds to do when they get pregnant: I gave her up. And I moved on. You were the one who wanted to keep her.

RYAN: And you never looked back.

CERIDWEN: Are you upset that I left her or that I left you?

RYAN: Do you ever even think about her?

CERIDWEN: Yes!

RYAN: Then why didn’t you come back? I mean, look at you, you’re… don’t they give you any vacation time?

CERIDWEN: Kids need stability.

RYAN: I’m not asking you to be her mom. You’re not. But you are her mother.

CERIDWEN: What have you told her?

RYAN: Well, you know me. I named her “Elspeth”, for crying out loud. What did you expect me to say? That you gave her up? That you cared more about yourself?

CERIDWEN: That I’d let an older man knock me up?

RYAN: You think that’s the part that would matter? To her? Coming from the one who stayed?

CERIDWEN: So what did you tell her?

RYAN: I’ve told her lots of different things. Told her you were abducted by aliens.

CERIDWEN: Oh, Gods.

RYAN: I told her you were actually a fairy and you couldn’t exist in this realm for more than a year.

CERIDWEN: How old is she again?

RYAN: Just starting to grow out of that. She is my daughter, after all. And I can’t vouch for what my mom’s told her, but… I think she’s gotten it in her head I don’t really like talking about you.

CERIDWEN: Yet here we are.

RYAN: You need to meet her.

CERIDWEN: I don’t think that would be a good idea.

RYAN: Well, tough. She needs to meet you. I have bought the ring. For Melanie. But she needs to meet you, too. No matter what else happens.

CERIDWEN: We do need to talk about the incident.

RYAN: Will you meet your daughter?

CERIDWEN: You can’t exactly give me an ultimatum.

RYAN: Watch me.

DARRYL: Hey.

AMBER: Hey.

DARRYL: If you’re busy, I can–

AMBER: I’m not. Particularly, just… you know, trying to keep my mind… How you doin’? Have you talked to her?

DARRYL: She doesn’t want me to talk to her–

AMBER: You don’t know that. Do you want to talk to her? That should be a factor, too–I mean, to a certain extent.

DARRYL: I don’t know if I do want to talk to her.

AMBER: Why would you not want to talk to her? Look, you’d never know if you don’t try.

DARRY: Exactly. I don’t want to know. Do I? Do you know something I don’t?

AMBER: Sorry. Look, all I know is, she hasn’t talked about you in that way.

DARRYL: Because she doesn’t feel that way about me.

AMBER: That doesn’t mean she never will, you have to open that door–

DARRYL: And endanger our friendship?

AMBER: Yes.

DARRYL: … OK.

AMBER: Why do you think it’s gonna endanger your friendship?

DARRYL: Because she’ll know! And I’ll know, and it’ll be weird.

AMBER: Know what? What will she know?

DARRYL: She’ll know how I feel about her.

AMBER: And why will that be weird?

DARRYL: Because of the power dynamics! She… has this power over me, and I…

AMBER: And you don’t want her to know that she has this power? So you’re thinking of this as, like, a military operation?

DARRYL: No! It’s just… it’ll be weird…

AMBER: And you don’t think it’s weird that you have all these feelings for her and she doesn’t know? You don’t think that’s a bit creepy?

DARRYL: If she doesn’t know… If she doesn’t know, how can she feel… weird about it?

AMBER: That’s not the point.

DARRYL: Well, then what is the point?

AMBER: The point is choice. She has the right to know how you feel about her. She’s your friend. You want her to be more than a friend, but she… doesn’t even know that that’s an option.

DARRYL: It’s always an option.

AMBER: Is it?

DARRYL: She’s straight, I’m straight. How is it not an option?

AMBER: I’m straight.

DARRYL: Hold on, are you… are you saying this… right here… That this is an option?

AMBER: Are you saying this is an option? ‘Cause if all it takes is two straight people, and this is what we’ve got…

DARRYL: OK, I guess I see your point.

AMBER: How do you actually feel about her?

DARRYL: What, you mean, like…

AMBER: Say the first thing that comes into your head. How do you feel about her?

DARRYL: The first thing that comes into my head? I want her. When I look at her, I… The bounce and flow of her hair, the curl of her lips when she smiles–

AMBER: How do you feel about her?

DARRYL: I want to hold her. I want to… be close to her. I want to tell her stories and see what kinds of stories she’ll tell in return–

AMBER: OK, good. That’s good. What is your favorite thing about her?

DARRYL: The way she understanding things. I’m… I really have a lot of trouble sometimes with… expressing myself? With making myself understood? And I don’t… know… like, I’m not sure that she does always really… understand me. As it were. But she never holds it against me. Or she doesn’t seem to.

AMBER: But what do you like about her? Understanding you is one thing, but…

DARRYL: Well, it’s not just me, it’s… sorry, I got a bit side-tracked. No, it’s… We’d be in class, and… our brains are really similar, you know? I can… she says… things that… it’s the stuff that she says, OK?

AMBER: So you love her because she’s like you.

DARRYL: No, I love her because–

AMBER: Pay up.

DARRYL: I don’t know if I have a dollar on me–

AMBER: I’ll wait.

DARRYL: All right, here. Fine. Although you did use the word first.

AMBER: Not in relation to my guy!

DARRYL: I do love her, though. Now that I’ve paid, I guess I might as well say it, right?

AMBER: Do you love her, though? I mean, I know you love the way she looks, and I know you love the way she makes you feel…

DARRYL: What do you want me to say, Amber? What are you fishing for?

AMBER: Do you actually care about her?

DARRYL: Of course I do! This isn’t even about me, is it?

AMBER: A little bit, yeah.

DARRYL: One bad relationship and you’re giving up on love?

AMBER: I am not giving up on love! And it was not a “bad relationship”, we were just… He was gay. You know? It didn’t mean that we didn’t love each other. It just meant that we… Look, I care about you, Darryl. I love you. You’re my friend. And I care about her, too. I want you both to be happy.

DARRYL: And you think that we could make each other happy?

AMBER: It’s not about what I think. It’s about what you think. You have to want to make her happy–

DARRYL: Oh, is that what you were driving at?

AMBER: Yes!

DARRYL: You could’ve told me that!

AMBER: But that would’ve–whatever. Look, the point is… You have to want her to be happy.

DARRYL: Why do you think I don’t want to tell her? Right now, we’re friends. And she seems to like it like that. Friends seem to be… comfortable. For her. Makes her happy. If I tell her I want to be more than friends… That could make her unhappy.

AMBER: You don’t know that.

DARRYL: I don’t know anything!

AMBER: Well, at least you know that.

DARRYL: Beginning of wisdom, right? God, it all used to be so much simpler. You like a girl, you… write her a poem. Recite it at her window at night. Now…

AMBER: Have you ever tried that?

DARRYL: Yeah.

AMBER: … Really?

DARRYL: Hell, yeah. I went to high school. You gotta be a romantic at some point before you can earn the right to be a cynic.

AMBER: You’re not cynical.

DARRYL: Challenge accepted!

AMBER: Good luck! You don’t have it in you! So what happened?

DARRYL: Hm?

AMBER: With the girl? Reciting a poem at her window?

DARRYL: Oh, she um…

AMBER: She didn’t call the cops, did she?

DARRYL: No, but she told everybody at school. I was a laughing-stock. People started calling me Romeo. Obviously. Then some guy called himself the Prince of Cats and drew a knife on me–

AMBER: No!

DARRYL: True story. I reminded him Romeo kills Tybalt in the play, and then I got suspended for three days.

AMBER: ‘Murika!

DARRYL: Oh, God.

AMBER: So, because some guy drew a knife on you one time, that means there’s no such thing as love?

DARRYL: Well, when you put it like that… no. It doesn’t mean there’s no such thing as love, it means there’s no such thing as romance. It means romance is dead.

AMBER: Or… It means you just haven’t found the right person. You don’t get to be cynical after just one try, Darryl. You don’t “get” to be cynical at all. You just have to get up, get over it. Try again. Do you feel the same way about Michelle that you did about that other girl? Did you trust that other guy?

DARRYL: No.

AMBER: Then don’t go telling me things that aren’t true. Tell her. Tell her how you feel, let her make the decision.

DARRYL: I should tell her.

AMBER: You should tell her!

DARRYL: Should I write a poem?

AMBER: Do you think that she would like a poem?

DARRYL: I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.

AMBER: I’m actually not sure that she would get it. It’s just… she might think it was a joke. Or ironic.

DARRYL: Then I was right.

AMBER: About what?

DARRYL: Romance is dead. I think Irony killed her.

LIESBETH DE KRUIJF: He-ey.

JEFFREY VON TRIER: Look at that. It’s a Liesbeth. Check it out, what I got ya.

LIESBETH: Oh. No, sorry, I don’t drink.

JEFFREY: What do you mean, you don’t drink?

LIESBETH: I’m sorry.

JEFFREY: Don’t you get thirsty?

LIESBETH: …

JEFFREY: Can I get you anything else?

LIESBETH: Water?

JEFFREY: What you gonna do with that? Thought you didn’t drink. Kidding. Lighten up. Well, so uh… that uh, that thing? You were gonna do? How’d it go?

LIESBETH: Pretty good, I guess. I mean… It was a bit heavy.

JEFFREY: Difficult?

LIESBETH: Emotional.

JEFFREY: Did he cry?

LIESBETH: He didn’t cry.

JEFFREY: That’s too bad.

LIESBETH: At least, not while I was there. He was just… einh.

JEFFREY: That’s something, anyway.

LIESBETH: Well, in any case, it’s over now.

JEFFREY: Over now. Well, then. Good for you. Guy was a dick and you’re too good for him. Cheers. Now to find someone who won’t go astray. Am I right? What’s wrong?

LIESBETH: No, sorry, it’s nothing, it’s just that term, “go astray”. I just get… Who does that? It just doesn’t make sense!

JEFFREY: What sense would it make?

LIESBETH: He’s just not like that! And her? He barely even knows her!

JEFFREY: Didn’t they date? A year or two ago?

LIESBETH: Yeah, for like five seconds, that doesn’t count! But they didn’t–that’s not even–

JEFFREY: Listen. People are machines that lie. I’m just saying. If I was you… A guy can go on for years, doing whatever, without ever thinking of anyone but himself, without anyone else even knowing about it. Happens all the time.

LIESBETH: Then there was that note.

JEFFREY: That note.

LIESBETH: You saw it.

JEFFREY: I saw it.

LIESBETH: That note. God! I can’t stand it! What are you drinking?

JEFFREY: This? Acts like beer, tastes like nectar of the Gods. Ambrosia.

LIESBETH: May I?

JEFFREY: Thought you didn’t drink?

LIESBETH: Tastes like juice. Soda, but just… I dunno, softer.

JEFFREY: Ambrosia. I’m telling you.

LIESBETH: You and your ambrosia, man.

JEFFREY: It’s beer. I promise. What do you think? … Wow, you can drink!

LIESBETH: I gotta get rid of him!

JEFFREY: Out of your system? Flush him out?

LIESBETH: Yup. And you? Your system need any… flushing?

JEFFREY: I might have a few… bugs in my system.

LIESBETH: Is that why you drink?

JEFFREY: I drink ‘cause I drink. My system? For that, I need something else.

LIESBETH: Something else? A girl, maybe?

JEFFREY: Why, Liesbeth… Are you trying to seduce me?

LIESBETH: You’re the one driving me to drink.

JEFFREY: What, beer? That’s nothing. Not gonna get you drunk.

LIESBETH: You sure? I’m starting to feel it…

JEFFREY: Or maybe you’re starting to feel something else.

LIESBETH: Now I’m the one going astray.

JEFFREY: Thought you broke up with him.

LIESBETH: Not talking about him. Aren’t you kind of a stray?

JEFFREY: Is that what you think of me?

LIESBETH: Not allowed to think, I’m drunk. Couldn’t we… go astray?

JEFFREY: Why do you want that?

LIESBETH: Don’t you want that?

JEFFREY: It’s not about that. Why do you want that? Is it about him? Or is it about me? What do you want?

LIESBETH: No, you’re right. You’re right, it’s not about you, it’s just to…

JEFFREY: Get him out of your system?

LIESBETH: Exactly. Yeah.

JEFFREY: Good. All right, then. Come along.

LIESBETH: Where are we going?

JEFFREY: Astray.

KIMBERLY: Whatcha doin’?

DWIGHT: … Doodling…

KIMBERLY: Are you doing Math?

DWIGHT: I’ve always been taught to say no to Math.

KIMBERLY: That’s Meth.

DWIGHT: Ooooh. That makes more sense.

KIMBERLY: Seriously, though.

DWIGHT: Study hall is for silently studying, isn’t it?

KIMBERLY: Have you met Ms. Kelly? She doesn’t care. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.

DWIGHT: Do you know Marjorie Robbins?

KIMBERLY: Isn’t she a cheerleader?

DWIGHT: She’s a lot more than that.

KIMBERLY: Why? Do you have a crush on her or something? I mean, not that it’s my business or anything, but you brought it up.

DWIGHT: There’s just a lot of stuff going on.

KIMBERLY: Stuff that has to do with Marjorie Addams? Is she good at Math?

DWIGHT: I think so.

KIMBERLY: What does this have to do with anything?

DWIGHT: I think she may be gay. Like, a lesbian.

KIMBERLY: … OK…

DWIGHT: So, given that—

KIMBERLY: Didn’t she date that guy Rick?

DWIGHT: Because no gay person has ever dated a straight person, either as a smoke-screen or an experiment—

KIMBERLY: I heard she broke up with him because he was gay. ‘Cause he wouldn’t, like… put out. Put in?

DWIGHT: Like I said, smoke screen. According to Rick, she was totally cold, completely uninterested in anything physical, then one day, out of nowhere, she pounced.

KIMBERLY: Sounds like loser patriarchy bullshit to me.

DWIGHT: I’m not ruling that out, but there are other things going on here that don’t add up.

KIMBERLY: Hold on—that’s what you’re doing?

DWIGHT: I’m trying to figure out exactly what’s going on here, socially.

KIMBERLY: I thought you said you were doing Math.

DWIGHT: If you’ll recall, you were the one who said I was doing Math. And then I made fun of you.

KIMBERLY: Thanks. Thanks for clearing that up.

DWIGHT: Don’t mention it.

KIMBERLY: It’s just a little bit weird, you know? A little bit sketchy.

DWIGHT: You’re the one snooping.

KIMBERLY: Oh, I’m snooping? You’re meddling.

DWIGHT: No, this is just… a thought experiment. I don’t really have a dog in this fight, but considering all the different things going on here, I thought this might be a good environment to test some theories of mine.

KIMBERLY: Right. Because that doesn’t sound even more sketchy.

DWIGHT: Interested?

KIMBERLY: All right, fine, I’ll bite.

DWIGHT: You’ve heard of love triangles, right?

KIMBERLY: Duh.

DWIGHT: You know how a triangle is supposed to be the strongest shape?

KIMBERLY: Might’ve heard something like that.

DWIGHT: Well, technically, a line would be stronger, if it were pointed the right direction. But a line doesn’t count as a shape. A line would just be two people who are interested in each other. Or who aren’t. Or one of them is interested, and one isn’t. Fairly simple. But then you look at a triangle—

KIMBERLY: Things get more complicated?

DWIGHT: And then you get this.

KIMBERLY: OK, what am I looking at here?

DWIGHT: It’s a theoretical model: a love-dodecahedron.

KIMBERLY: Um. Why?

DWIGHT: Because two dimensions weren’t enough to think about this.

KIMBERLY: Oh God.

DWIGHT: And part of the reason for that is because some of the actants behave differently.

KIMBERLY: What does that mean?

DWIGHT: Well, love is supposed to be directional, right? Heteronormativity would suggest that a love arrow can only go from a male actant to a female actant and back again. Now, the typical male harem mentality means that multiple arrows might come out from the same male agent to a wide variety of different female patients, but they’ll always go male to female, and a similar process would be true for women.

KIMBERLY: Assuming heteronormativity.

DWIGHT: Assuming heteronormativity, correct. Now, if that were the case, that would be complicated enough, but in addition to that, we have to include the possibility that some of the actants might be gay, i.e. not display this heteronormative tendency. Male actants sending out arrows to other male actants, female to female.

KIMBERLY: Not to mention bisexual.

DWIGHT: … Dear Gods, you’re right!

KIMBERLY: Don’t mention it.

DWIGHT: See, if it weren’t for Marjorie Addams, I would have no problem arranging the entire configuration in two simple columns, male and female, but with her, there would have to be retroflex arrows—boomerangs, if you will—and then if what they say about Kenny is true—

KIMBERLY: Kenny is totally gay.

DWIGHT: That remains to be seen!

KIMBERLY: Oh, come on. Kenny is totally gay.

DWIGHT: Oh, Gods…

KIMBERLY: What?

DWIGHT: What about trans people? If an arrow goes from a bisexual person to a trans person, that’s probably fine—

KIMBERLY: Not necessarily.

DWIGHT: No?

KIMBERLY: Just because you’re bi doesn’t mean you’re attracted to everyone.

DWIGHT: You’re right. That would be pan—

KIMBERLY: And then there would be asexuals.

DWIGHT: They would just be dead ends.

KIMBERLY: No arrows departing.

DWIGHT: But they could still receive them.

KIMBERLY: Just because a person is asexual, though, doesn’t mean they’re non-romantic.

DWIGHT: It would complicate matters, though. Eugh.

KIMBERLY: Why are you doing this?

DWIGHT: What?

KIMBERLY: What’s in this for you?

DWIGHT: I told you. It’s a theoretical model.

KIMBERLY: Why don’t I see your name on here, though?

DWIGHT: …

KIMBERLY: This is me prying, by the way.

DWIGHT: I have no dog in this fight.

KIMBERLY: Are you asexual?

DWIGHT: No… I just…

KIMBERLY: Nothing in your quiver?

DWIGHT: I keep missing. I’m a terrible shot. Probably because the consensus is to say no to Math, and anyone who uses it.

KIMBERLY: That’s not true.

DWIGHT: Isn’t it, though?

KIMBERLY: No. It isn’t. Here.

DWIGHT: What’s that?

KIMBERLY: An arrow. Think about it.