[David is knocked fiercely over the head with frying pan. He wakes up later. He is puzzled by the presence of Julie.]

Who are you?

I'm Sofia.

You are not Sofia.

I'm Sofia.

Whatever.

I wasn't hitting on Sophia.

Oh, fine. Whatever you say. I'm crazy. I'm blind.

You're not blind, you're drinking Jack Daniels, and when you drink Jack you start in with that, "Frank Sinatra, she shot me down, give me a cigarette, King of Sad" thing.

That I do. Give me a cigarette.

I'll find one.

But wait. You're rich and women love you, and I'm from Ohio and I'm drunk. Can I tell you the truth?

Everybody does.

I dig her. And I've never said this to you before about any girl, but she could be - could be, could be, could be - the girl of my **** dreams.

You're not from Ohio.

I know. But if she ****s up our friendship, she can go to hell. I won't allow it. We are bros.

I feel the same way.

Sure you do.

How 'bout if you help me, unless i'm horning in here.

You are, but the food's good.

See, I've got this little problem. I've got a stalker.

It doesn't sound life threatening.

But I need a cover. I need for you to pretend we're having a scintillating conversation, and you are wildly entertained. I know it's tough.

I'll improvise.

She's across the room and burning a hole in my back now, isn't she?

Red dress, strappy shoes? Wow. She's really staring at you.

Shit.

And she seems to be crying. Less happy. I think she's the saddest girl to ever hold a martini.