Scampi: Speaking of equations.
Peter: Were we?
Scampi: No. Yes.
PETER CLEARS HIS THROAT.
Scampi: Well, that’s nothing new.
Scampi: It’s all you do these days. Clearing your throat.
Scampi [derisive snorting]: On the ex wye axes.
Scampi: Blah blah. Et cetera.
Scampi: Do you want to take a nap?
Peter: Not at all. I want to fill my lungs with air.
Scampi: Good luck with that.
Peter: Thank you.
Scampi: There are several things to be said on each point.
Scampi: I can barely keep my eyes open.
Peter: I find that enjoying the outdoors can help.
Scampi: What do you know about it?
Peter: The outdoors?
Scampi: Or anything.
Peter: I know a few things about grade eight level mathematics.
Scampi: Buzz buzz.
Peter: Are you an insect?
Scampi: Would it matter?
Scampi: I think so. It would matter.
Peter: Uh. Are you crying?
Scampi: What the hell is wrong with you, Peter?
Peter: From an evolutionary perspective?
Scampi: Asking these insane questions.
Scampi: What are you laughing at?
Peter: In fact, I do not know.
Scampi: You’re a bit on the perky side today.
Peter: Oh no. Not I.
PETER GLOATS OVER HIS OWN HIGH SPIRITS.
Peter: What was that?
Peter: Are you still on about Annie Oakley?
Scampi: No. These are sixshooters.
Peter: What are?
Scampi: See these paws?
Scampi: Pow pow pow pow.
Peter: What are you doing?
Scampi: I’m blasting all your posters off the walls. Yeehaw!
Peter: Must you?
Peter: This is very childish behaviour.
Scampi: You are.
Peter: There you go again.
Scampi: I sure do. Smouldering goats! I’m on a RAM-PAGE.
Scampi: God, I’m tired.
Scampi: And don’t touch my forehead.
Peter: I was doing no such thing.
Scampi: I know.
Scampi: Oh, nothing.
Scampi: The possibilities bloom like roses.
Peter: I see.
Scampi: Do you?
Peter: Well, no.
Scampi: The fixed points; the abstractions. Ex here, wye there.
Scampi: It all seems fairly straightforward.
Scampi: We have the capacity, as humans.
Scampi: And yet.
Peter: And yet.