: Oh, you don’t have to apologize. You can’t help it, I guess. I’m assuming—
HAYNES
: No, it’s true—I can’t.
EMMA
: I’ve just never seen anything quite like that. I mean, I’ve had static shock before, but—rugs and doorknobs and stuff, but—
FRANK
: Yeah, that’s pretty impressive, Graig. You pick that up out there in Colorado or something?
(FRANK crosses to couch, chewing bacon and carrying coffee.)
EMMA
: Would you like some bacon, Mr. Haynes? And coffee—there’s coffee too. Help yourself.
HAYNES
: Thanks.
(EMMA crosses to stove. FRANK sits on couch with bacon and coffee. FRANK sings a short snatch from an old song.)
FRANK
: (
singing
) “My baby loves bacon
And that’s what I’m makin’
When I’m cookin’ breakfast for the one I love.
I don’t like oatmeal …”
EMMA
: Oh, don’t sing that, Frank. We’ve got company. (
to
HAYNES
) He always sings that when we have company.
FRANK
: We never have company.
EMMA
: That’s not entirely true.
(HAYNES shivers, rubs his arms.)
HAYNES
: How cold is it out there, anyway?
EMMA
: Oh, it’s plenty cold.
FRANK
: Cold enough to stick your tongue to a mailbox.
EMMA
: How cold was it back there in Colorado, Mr. Haynes?
HAYNES
: Graig.
EMMA
: What?
HAYNES
: Call me Graig.
EMMA
: Craig? Oh—all right—Craig.
HAYNES
: No, Graig—with a G.
EMMA