[The door to his room is still open. Inside, a curious mix of a place that's clearly been lived in for a while, but still seems half unpacked. There are boxes against one wall, books and magazines stacked across the desk. A battered and out of place couch fills up too much room between the door and the bed. There's little that makes it homely, but it's bright and the window looks across the city.]
[He stops in the doorway, letting her examine the layout from whatever safe distance she likes.]
Some people think spiders and clowns are scary. And then some people are men.
[He'll take a look, too, from her point of view.]
Theoretically, combining two horror cliches should make them twice as scary. In reality the overkill makes it a little absurd. I've been here six months.
[He nods, acknowledging if not quite answering her offer.]
What about something to settle your nerves?
[They're still visible. As is a small collection of bottles on the floor by the window. It's not a drunkard's empties, but not exactly a drinks cabinet, either.]
Yes. [Two bottles of VB, an opener slung around the neck of one of them. Chase looks at the label as he passes it across.] Must be left over from a nostalgia kick.
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I don't know, my idea of horror is kind of wacky. You're note going to try and perform surgery without anaesthetic, are you?
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Why don't you come up and see?
[It's more scooby-doo than spooky.]
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I'll warn you, I know kung-fu.
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I believe you.
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This is not the scariest place I've stayed in, by the way.
There was this place in Newfoundland, once, I'm pretty sure it was an old meat-packing factory or something.
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[He feigns uncertainty, blinking at her.]
Well I've been using the meat hooks as clothes hangers, but if you think they're atmospheric...
[And flashes a bright grin, half hidden by the sheepish head-duck that follows.]
Sorry. Do you scare easily?
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Not about this kind of thing.
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Right, you're into 'wacky' horror. Clowns?
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I can tell a serial killer lives here.
[And then back at him]
No- no clowns. God, the worst part of that movie was the it turns into a giant spider. Honestly, a spider? Took me right out of the movie.
Um, you look like you haven't quite moved in yet.
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Some people think spiders and clowns are scary. And then some people are men.
[He'll take a look, too, from her point of view.]
Theoretically, combining two horror cliches should make them twice as scary. In reality the overkill makes it a little absurd. I've been here six months.
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Are you?
[She's looking over the room before she sits on the bed]
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No. Fond of some of them.
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So you're really all right with my staying here?
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[Which really confirms that thing about not judging books.]
Tomorrow we can work out something else.
[He lies in extremes, flawlessly or terribly. This one comes out awkward.]
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You can sleep over here, you know. I'll take the couch.
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[And he stands again, obviously reminded of some rusty but ingrained manners.]
Have you eaten? Want a drink?
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[She means platonically...or not, she can go either way.]
I had dinner.
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What about something to settle your nerves?
[They're still visible. As is a small collection of bottles on the floor by the window. It's not a drunkard's empties, but not exactly a drinks cabinet, either.]
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[Hold up while he leans over to look.]
Yes. [Two bottles of VB, an opener slung around the neck of one of them. Chase looks at the label as he passes it across.] Must be left over from a nostalgia kick.
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A VB! I haven't had one in ages.
[And she takes it, opening hers and passing him the opener]
Thank you.
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Warm VB. Tastes exactly like seventeen.
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Tastes like losing my virginity.
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