0860-------------------------------------
(Wednesday night, INT, AW's apartment.)

JH (leaning over AH's partially exploded head): Jesus, that's a lot of blood. And bone, I'm pretty sure I'm seeing bone fragments.
JH: But yeah, it looks like you somehow shot yourself in the uvula and managed to miss your brain and spinal cord. I think.
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AW: Hhhhh.
JH: Y'know what? No. No, fuck you.
JH: I wasn't going to kill you, but you want to die so bad? Go ahead and do it. Be my guest.
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JH: Ahhhh, who'm I kidding?
JH (on phone): I can't believe I'm dialing nine-one-one on your cellphone again, we've already established that this is a bad ideHI yes ambulance to number four-oh-five Fourth street, adult male with a self-inflicted gunshot to the back of the throat. You'll want to hurry.
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JH (leaving): No, no, I'll be gone by the time you get here, but I... uh... I left the front door open for you.
JH: And hey, do me a favour, if and when you get this guy conscious and stable, slap him upside the head from me for being a moron, okay?