see? she's weird, but hot.
uh - hi.
what?
sh-sure.
hey. i thought your slide show in art was cool.
yeah. this guy we know? learned hydrophonics in the pen, man.
yeah, whatever. brigitte gapes at ginger, who does not respond. brigitte hides beneath her hair and presses even further into a corner. she starts quietly ripping up the corner of the old shag rug. there is a codified knock on the vain door. brigitte jumps.
speak of the devil. enter! the back doors open and sam stands in silhouette, backlit by the day. his battered county truck waits behind him. he has a pit bull with him - morely.
watcha got for us? sam produces several baggies of grass. morely's hackles rise. brigitte looks from the dog to ginger, ginger squirms.
you okay?
maybe we could --.  ginger places a finger to her lips, then makes a finger gun and shoots him.
ginger in there again? brigitte ignores him.
cool. um. look, belinda.
right, right. t'd really like to take yer sister out. think you could ask her for me?
hey. i could fix you up too. i guess. brigitte seethes.
fuck. never mind, i'll ask her myself. freak. jason takes a post on the opposite brigitte to wait. brigitte glares at him.
holy.  ginger notices jason and visibly brightens.
hey. whatcha doin' now?
wanna go for a ride?
ouch! whoa. can't believe you never had a boyfriend.  ginger licks his blood from her own lips and freezes dead cold. jason dives back at her for more. ginger looks both aroused and unnerved by her arousal. ginger's stomach growls. ginger pushes jason off of her.
it's only six o'clock. jason presses himself on her again. ginger shoves him off, hard.
oh. now you get all moody on me?
well, well well.
the fair sisters fitzgerald.
you tell me. tim cracks the door and takes a look inside.
ginger, i had no idea.
cool. but. this is ya know, uh, a bit of a problem. what's gonna happen when they start lookin' for the ah, people responsible? brigitte glares at ginger.
oh i might.
have to be sweet.
jason gets the eager nod from his gang.
okay, let's go.
yeah, right saturday. you'll ditch.
deal. he extends his hand to shake on it. linger shakes it awkwardly with her good hand. brigitte thumps her head against the wall.
hey. must be the place, right? brigitte sneers at him. he holds a half-gone bottle of schnapps, a dress shirt and his good jeans on. the toilet flushes in the john. brigitte knocks on the door.
c'mon ladies, there's six other guys sitting in the shrub waiting. brigitte's face darkens. she slips into the bathroom and shuts the door.