[Target Nine | Snarled over the journals.]
[a clatter, a crash: something thrown. Distant] The hell with this. There's no answers here!!
[WHAM. Journal, open! Louder, clearer.] I'm hiring a ship. No-one wants to rent me, I'm taking one. It's time to get our asses off this rock and find some new ground. Anyone with me?
Red, I say we sell the damn shop and leave the scraps to the vultures. Don't act like you haven't been cooped up and caged in yourself. Life's too goddam short for retail.
[A sigh. A short pause. His voice softens, a little, as he moves away.]
Ofelia?
Let's talk, hon.
[WHAM. Journal, open! Louder, clearer.] I'm hiring a ship. No-one wants to rent me, I'm taking one. It's time to get our asses off this rock and find some new ground. Anyone with me?
Red, I say we sell the damn shop and leave the scraps to the vultures. Don't act like you haven't been cooped up and caged in yourself. Life's too goddam short for retail.
[A sigh. A short pause. His voice softens, a little, as he moves away.]
Ofelia?
Let's talk, hon.