Peter: ‘Tis I.
Scampi: You know what Dan said?
Peter: I do not.
Scampi: [READS ALOUD.]
Scampi: Can you imagine! He said for me to mention this to you.
Peter: I believe Matthew Arnold said that.
Scampi: Matthew Arnold has never asked me to mention anything. To you or anyone else.
Peter: That quote.
Scampi: Oh. Matthew Arnold wrote it, maybe.
Peter: There isn’t much maybe about it.
Peter: So, this is some sort of classical bullshit fest?
Scampi: Peter, how could you?
Peter: How could I what?
Scampi: But it’s so pretty.
Peter: We are all pretty.
Scampi: Well, well. Mr Cocksure.
Scampi: I can feel the sandy beach. I can see the cliffs!
Peter: You can do a lot of things, it seems.
Scampi: Yeah, sure. I can lick an icecreamcone if I’d of bought one last summer on the side of the highway.
Peter: Tense disagreement.
Scampi: That’s no lie.
Peter: Pardon me?
Scampi: Perhaps. In time. Hum. Do you think Matthew Arnold accepts fan letters?
Peter: Are you having some massive hemorrhage that’s affecting your grasp of chronology?
Scampi: Says you. Maybe I’m a mystic.
Peter: [hisses like an alkaline battery.]
Scampi: If I may say, your own existence is highly implausible. Before you start twittering baroque minuets in my ear.
Peter: Before I what?
Scampi: It’s true, I’m not a mystic. But the point is, I could be. And you’d just be sitting there buzzing like a giant calculator. Taking up a New York block with your messianic algorithms.
Peter: I would do no such thing.
Scampi: Don’t bet on it, mister.
Peter: I am not a betting man.
Scampi: That’s none of my business. Save it for Blaise Pascal.
Scampi [whispering]: I’m just going to make some tea.
Peter: Whilst I shall glower to myself for full five minutes.
Scampi: And may I compliment you on your choice of ties?
Peter: [sighs] You may.
Scampi: Thank you.
Scampi: We can see each other. Can’t we?
Peter: Can we not? Why wouldn’t we?
Scampi: If we had fully descended into darkness, would we think we could see each other? When we couldn’t?
Peter: If it was dark enough, I don’t see how we could see anything. We are not, ahem, bats.
Scampi: Maybe you aren’t.
Peter: Are you a bat?
Scampi: Why don’t you bounce some sound waves off me and find out?
Peter: I decline.
Scampi: Like a verb. Sans action. Oh, hum. The tea is ready!
Scampi: Here you are.
Peter: What were you laughing at?
Peter: What were you laughing at just now?
Scampi: I was just getting us some tea. This is not a crime.
Peter: It is not.
Scampi: Agreed. A just conclusion, to be sure.
Scampi: I wonder if my memory of you would outlast you yourself. Or the greyscale in the air between us.
Peter: I don’t know what that means.
Scampi: I do.
Peter: I have my doubts.
Scampi: Yes. You parade them daily.
Peter: Excuse me.
Scampi: Explain yourself first.
Peter: There’s nothing to explain.
Scampi: Then there is nothing to excuse.
Scampi: If you were an idea of mine, glowing in my head, you know, glittering like freezing rain or that type of thing.
Scampi: Would you be bright enough to light your own way?
Peter: You’ve lost me.
Scampi: But in the leftover shine you could find your way back.
Peter: That’s not the sort of thing I understand.
Scampi: Yeah yeah.
Peter: In fact, I don’t think that’s the sort of thing anyone understands.
Scampi: Sour grapes.
Peter: I can’t hear you. You’re mumbling.
Peter: You know why no one understands that sort of thing?
Scampi: I’m not listening.
Peter: Because it doesn’t make any sense. That’s why.
Scampi: You pause to make dents? Is that what you said?
Scampi: I guess I’m not the only one who mumbles! Around here.
Scampi: Hee hee. You should see yourself right now.
Peter: No thanks.
Scampi: Your incisors look like they’re ready to pop out of your face. Canus petursus.
Peter: Spurious Latin.
Scampi: Don’t talk about Latin that way.
Peter: You know very well what I meant.
Scampi: Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.
Peter: No need to look so pleased with yourself.
Scampi: Why’s that? Do you find it maddening?
A GULL ALIGHTS ON A POCKET OF AIR JUST OUTSIDE THE WINDOW.
Scampi: Say what you want about it.
Peter: About what?
Peter: I do maintain, they move clockwise.
Scampi: We are the noisy armies and the detritus they leave behind and the quiet before they arrived. All at once.
Peter: We who?
Scampi: And we are a couple of swallows. A couple of sideswiping crustacea on the beach, blinking crabbily back and forth.
Peter: No doubt we are all these things.
Scampi: And because you are glowing in the dark—
Peter: I am doing no such thing.
Scampi: Then what am I using to read? A pocket flashlight?
Peter: A POCKET FLASHLIGHT? What?
Scampi: Certainly not. Calm yourself.
Scampi: There’s no way I can see this far for nothing.