January 23, 2007
notebook draft: dialogue
"Why are you still eating if you don't like it?" says Claudia.
"What do you mean?"
She shoots Lucas the look. "You. Know. What I mean."
"It's fine --"
"You obviously hate it."
"Well, fuck!" Lucas fingers a gelid piece of fettucini on the half-empty plate. His fingers are oily beneath the low lights of their Baha terrace haunt. The food's terrible, but they've eaten there all week; Lucas seems to have been eating the same horrible pasta, strand by gritty strand, all night, and with only the one hand, his right one -- like a crab he delivers the bad cold food to his mouth over and over again.
"Yeah, fuck!" says Claudia. Lucas snorts. "What the fuck is so funny?" she says.
"It's you--" And they both observe a waiter approach smiling, then withdraw in recognition of their strain, like a wave.
"Gimme a fuckin'--"
"--You're goddamn hot when you're disgusted."
Posted by delire at January 23, 2007 04:08 PM