DALE in suit. MOLL in smart dress.
|MOLL:||You look good in your suit.|
|Thanks for coming.|
|I’ve asked for a copy of the letter.|
|MOLL:||Fucking Hell, Dale.|
|MOLL:||I mean, look what she did.|
|MOLL:||You were too good for her.|
|MOLL:||D’you like my dress?|
DALE cries. MOLL comforts him.
A mirror falls of the wall.
|MOLL:||Jesus Fucking Christ.|
|DALE:||That was wrong.|
|MOLL:||You see that?|
DALE inspects broken mirror.
|DALE:||Bit late for bad luck.|
|MOLL:||It jumped off the wall.|
|MOLL:||I don’t like this.|