(HAYNES wheels around suddenly to FRANK. Just stares at him.)
What?
HAYNES
: Where’d you hear that name?
FRANK
: What, Rocky Buttes?
HAYNES
: Don’t say that name!
FRANK
: That’s what you told me on the phone.
HAYNES
: I never told you that. That’s not something I would have told you. It’s top secret! Does she know?
FRANK
: Who?
HAYNES
: Your wife! Emma. Does she know?
FRANK
: What?
HAYNES
: The name!
FRANK
: Rocky Buttes?
(HAYNES leaps toward FRANK, grabbing him by the shoulders and covering his mouth.)
HAYNES
: Stop saying that name! I told you not to say it! What’s the matter with you? That was one of the first things I told you on the phone. That was one of our contingencies. Wasn’t it?
(FRANK can’t answer with HAYNES’s hand over his mouth.)
Wasn’t it?!
(HAYNES releases him. Pause. FRANK wipes his mouth.)
FRANK
: You better settle down, Graig.
HAYNES
: I’m sorry.
FRANK
: We lead a very peaceful life here. We’re in the country. We’re dairy farmers.
HAYNES
: I’m sorry. I just can’t take any chances. Maybe, after this thing blows over—
FRANK
: What thing?
HAYNES
: This whole—crisis.
FRANK
: Are we talking about a world situation or something personal, Graig?
HAYNES
: What’s the difference?
(Pause. HAYNES rubs his arms from the cold. He moves to windows and looks out over the fields below.)
God, it’s cold.
FRANK
: Yeah. You’ll get used to it.
HAYNES