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turning to page one
An extremely small room with a low ceiling and a single bed. Royal stands in front of a mirror while Pagoda stitches up the knife-wound in his side. He holds a bottle of iodine in one hand and a box of bandages in the other.
ROYAL
Everyone’s against me.
PAGODA
You can’t blame them, man.
ROYAL
I know. But, dammit, I want to be loved
by this family.
Pagoda pours some iodine on a cotton ball and applies it to Royal’s knife wound. Royal grimaces.
ROYAL (CONT’D)
How much money you got?
PAGODA
I don’t have.
ROYAL
(frowns)
What do you mean? You’re broke?
Pagoda nods. Royal looks furious.
ROYAL (CONT’D)
You got to be kidding me. How’re we
supposed to pay for the damn room?
Pagoda looks up at Royal coldly. Silence.
ROYAL (CONT’D)
All right. We’ll figure something out.