[Some time in the wee hours of the morning, Carla Morir has descended on the nearest glass diner with an unshakeable hunger. That's why she's fiddling with her device, really, and the impatience and tension shows all over her face, she keeps glancing over her shoulder at the kitchen, over and over. Honestly, the only thing keeping her in her seat is Mr. Blonde sitting across from her.]
How about Rex. [She gives him a completely uncomprehending look, so he clarifies,] For the mutt.
Really? [Scornful.] You could try a-- [Over her shoulder again. Where is the food.] little harder.
That's not making them cook any faster. You got a better suggestion?
[She sits back with a slouch, her feet kicking up to rest on the empty part of the booth across from her.]
No, just keep it out of the bed.
[He motions defensively at her with a cup of coffee in his hands,] It was making a racket.
[That line of conversation is completely derailed as the waitress finally appears, laden down with five or six different plates. She hasn't even finished setting them down before Carla is already at them. She's a bottomless pit.]
You can't eat all that.
[She motions back at him with a fork, the tip of it trembling in the air.]
Watch me. [She looks over into the camera, no she has not forgotten that she turned it on.] Pet names. We can do better than 'Rex,' right?