Scampi: I’m trying to make you a cup of coffee.
Peter: You may do as you wish.
Scampi: That’s not the point.
Peter: Ah. Terribly sorry.
Scampi: What?
PAUSE.
Scampi: You are not.
Peter: Ah.
Scampi: Why are you making that noise?
Peter: It is hot.
Scampi: Yes. Would you like me to mop your brow for you?
Peter: Ugh.
Scampi: What?
Peter: Please.
Scampi: I have been dancing up a storm.
PAUSE.
Scampi: What do you think of that?
Peter: The statement appears to be plausible.
Scampi: You haven’t danced in two years.
Peter: Perhaps.
Scampi: I was learning awful things about dying of typhus.
Peter: Pardon?
Scampi: Gaol fever. With a gee, in the olde style.
Peter: Perhaps I should open the window.
Scampi: That’s what they called it. Carried around in the excretions of lice.
Peter: I see.
Scampi: Disgusting.
Peter: May I remind you that I did not bring up the subject?
Scampi: Well, I thought it was all just awful.
Peter: For what purpose were you investigating this disease?
Scampi: Investigating! What do you think this is, Scotland Yard?
Peter: I do not.
Scampi: Well, you’re correct. This is not Scotland Yard.
Peter: I will make a note of it.
Scampi: Good.
PAUSE.
Scampi: These poor people. Peter.
Peter: What people?
Scampi: Wilting with fever and deliriums.
Peter: This occurred in the past.
Scampi: I know when this occurred.
PAUSE.
Scampi: You look drawn.
Peter: Oh?
Scampi: Like a charcoal sketch.
Peter: It is too hot.
Scampi: You know what else?
Peter: I do not.
Scampi: We are very lucky.
Peter: SIGHS.
Scampi: I could put ice in your coffee.
Peter: No thank you.
Scampi: Fine.
PAUSE.
Scampi: What? What?
Peter: Could you please explain the presence of your head on my scapula?
Scampi: It’s heavy.