You will meet her at the theater should you appear and apply. The devout Shaunnesey has a week in advance to your account. Gypsy: Take it back from him. Jack: Are you not being quite absurd, in the self-serving way of your sex?
You come here penniless, a supplicant. Gypsy: For learning. Jack: Well well well…and to learn, must you not live? Gypsy: Let me stay in the theater. Jack: chuckles At a minimum, for the career to which you aspire you show the requisite presumption. Jack: May we speak? Mary: You stand in the hallway addressing me in my room. Jack: Yes. She stands to the side allowing him to enter.
She closes the door behind him. The girl who danced last evening, vagabond sort, hodgepodge costume—. Mary: I know who you mean. Knowing precious little at all events, of the course now charting I know absolutely nothing at all.
Mary: You seem to know what it means for us. Mary: What does installing her accomplish acknowledging me could not?
Jack: Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. She opens up her dresser drawer and takes out her sketchbook. Jack: Say at least I never asked it of you. Jack: Shall I have these? Mary: No. Jack: Paint every fucking one, Mary. Cy: You might want to close the fucking door. She closes the door. Who the fuck are you? Cy: Hmm. Janine: You can call me whatever you want. You miss Cincinnati, Janine-nine-nine-nine-nine? Are you afraid of fucking Deadwood?
