Ben called first thing this morning.
Happy birthday, my Bumblebee. I wish I was there.
I wish you were here too.
You okay?
I don't know.
I'll be home soon.
No you won't. You won't be home for months.
Pretend I'm in treatment.
You probably will be by the end of this. I might be too.
And Loch. Is he still smashed?
Yes he's still drunk in his sleep, if you can believe it.
He's not good with pressure. How the hell did you guys ever manage to put on a show together if you both run full bore on pure terror all the time.
Drugs and cash.
Makes sense.
I'm kidding. Jesus. That was instant gratification. This is a life decision, not a aerial performance and definitely not a magic show.
He could be so cool but the paralysis really takes away from the whole picture. He's a huge fraidy-dork.
Just like me.
Naw. You're a tiny little fraidy-dork. You two are going to self-destruct before I even cross the ocean.
Then why did you leave?
Because it's time to see if you can make this work together. You've waited your whole life for this show, Bridget. Go and be the star.
I'm not a star. I'm a burned out asteroid, Ben. I'm a fragment. I'm not..
You're a 'naut? What kind of 'naut?
A stupidnaut. Ridicu-naut. Lamenauts. Paralynauts.
How about fraidynauts for now. Tomorrow you can be bravenauts.
Why tomorrow?
Because today is your birthday and if anyone pressures you to do anything other than enjoy the day I'll fucking kill them from here.
