0085-------------------------------------
(Sunday. INT: apartment)
EB (staggering): Ugh. So nauseous. I'm calling in sick to work tomorrow.
JH (playing RPS Chess with MH): Nutmeg is a hell of a drug.
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MH: You still going to be okay to work out in the morning?
EB: If I thought I could work out, I'd go to work. I do want to drop by the gym, though, I want to give Ty a piece of my mind.
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MH: About what?
EB: Well, I happen to think that if a one-armed man in a neckbrace with no martial arts training can still kick my ass, the lessons aren't doing much good.
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MH: Jamie beat you up?
EB: No, the other one-armed man in a neckbrace.
JH: She went through a lot of prospective tenants.
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