[The first thing you'll notice it that John looks like absolute hell. He's been floating from bar to bar or at least a day. His clothes are completely rumpled and you can practically smell the whiskey and desperation coming off him.]
Hey, Bobby? I need a favor, bad. [He scrubs a hand across his face, looking completely exhausted.] I need to crash
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Is it your fault Mary is sad?
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Uh...no?
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[so suspicious]
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[Like hell he's going to justify himself to a talking house. Then he realizes he's justifying not justifying himself to a talking house. Time for another drink!]
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Oh hello, Mary.
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[ALL THE SHOCK WHY JOHN WHY 8U]
[slightly more composed] I'm sorry.
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See, he's why I'm sad now. But for many, many years, he was the reason I was happy.
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I hope you're happy again soon.
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Can you be nice to him? Our son died this week. He's sad, too.
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What kind of cookies does he like?
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