(formatted for this post)
INT. LOSER'S APT- MORNING
Loser drifts into consciousness with the sounds and smells of cooking. He rolls over and squints a bit before believing it is actually Gina making breakfast for him.
LOSER: Gina? What're you doin'?
GINA: I was wondering when you'd get up. I made ya some soup.
LOSER: I don't got any soup -
GINA: I got it for ya. I gotcha some bread, too.
LOSER: Where're my pants?
GINA: Wherever you dropped 'em. You didn't get that lucky.
Loser rolls around until he finds his pants wrapped in the sheets with him. He puts them on as he climbs out of bed. She gives him a quick once over as he stretch yawns. He sits at a makeshift table where bowls and bread are already placed. She pours soup into the bowls as he grabs some bread.
GINA: Drink some juice. You need your liquids.
LOSER: I'll get there...
Gina gets settled and sits at the table with him. She gets her own bread and pours some juice for him, then herself. They settle into breakfast in silence for a few moments.
LOSER: Soup's good... Thanks.
Gina only nods. Silence again. Loser's gaze keeps drifting back to her hands, neck, lips. She dips some bread, catching him staring as she eats. She gives him a smile, and a little ice breaks between them.
LOSER: I didn't say it yesterday, but it's good to see you, too.
GINA: Thanks...
LOSER: Yeah, one thing sure hasn't changed. You still know how to surprise me... So, y'know... What are you- Who's this pretty boy Derek?
GINA: I told you. He's my trainer. He's really good.
LOSER: Yeah? What's he train you to do?
GINA: He's a Martial Artist. I'm getting pretty good at it, too.
LOSER: Martial Arts? You? With him? What made you wanna- hngh-Oow!
Gina deftly clutches Loser's hand in hers and locks it in a painful grip that almost drops him out of his seat.
She leans into him, holding him fast.
GINA: When I learned I couldn't depend on losers like you to make my life any better. Derek's solid. He's in on this, and I don't need a bunch of schoolyard bullshit messing up our payday. We can all make a lot of money here, Frank. I came to get you 'cause I wanted to help you get a leg up. Now do you wanna talk business, or act like a teenager?
Loser nods and she lets him go. He rubs his forearm and reappraises her as they settle in their seats. She dips another bite of bread.
LOSER: That's my shooting arm. You coulda broke it... Then what, huh?
GINA: Coulda but didn't. Eat before your soup gets cold.
LOSER: Gina... What the fuck is goin' on here?
GINA: Eat up. We'll go for a walk.
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