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ROGUES | S01E11: Shave and a Haircut
🕑 Added 2018-06-12 06:58:05 +0000 UTC ROGUES | S01E11: Shave and a Haircut(door opening)
EDWARD: It certainly was an education, watching you eat. Like a slow-moving garbage truck.
JON: Hm. You could’ve stood to tip the waitress more than you did.
EDWARD: Fifteen percent is perfectly acceptable. You can tip as much as you like, when you pay for it.
JON: Me, pay for you? You’d bankrupt me in seconds.
EDWARD: (snickers) You know it, chump. Ugh. A motel. How did it come to this?
JON: Not much choice at this time of night.
EDWARD: I should have thought ahead.
JON: Yeah, why didn’t you?
EDWARD: I changed my original plans when we left Georgia. It didn’t leave me with a lot of time to find an appropriate hotel, or make reservations.
JON: (shrug) Oh well. It doesn’t matter to me.
EDWARD: (unhappy noises)
JON: You actually brought a suitcase?
EDWARD: It’s called an overnight bag. And yes. It pays to be prepared. Well, when you can be. It’s just typical that the only thing they had available was one queen suite.
JON: They certainly seemed to find it amusing.
EDWARD: Don’t they always? They must think they’re running a damn dating service, rather than an oversized roach motel. I’ll fix their ratings and drop their reputation in the gutter.
JON: I don’t think you can get less than one star, Edward.
EDWARD: Three Stars.
JON: What?
EDWARD: That was the name. Three Stars Motel.
JON: … (noise) What?
EDWARD: Seriously now - one bed? What a clichéd setup; this was done on purpose.
JON: Clearly a conspiracy to inconvenience you, and you alone.
EDWARD: Well, I suppose we’d better make the best of it.
JON: How’s that?
EDWARD: Left side or right side?
JON: That’s making the best of it?
EDWARD: (shrug) What’ve you got?
JON: Nuthin’ I care to give to you.
EDWARD: Very droll.
JON: If that was your pick-up line, then it needs work.
EDWARD: (annoyed sigh)
JON: Also, no. Fuck no.
EDWARD: Well why the hell not?
JON: Because I don’t wanna.
EDWARD: Surely you know that I would never choose this.
JON: Neither would I. Last thing I need is you telling people about it.
EDWARD: You still don’t trust me, huh? And after all I do for you, you ungrateful sack of shit. What would it take, hm? A pint of my blood?
JON: Interesting proposition.
EDWARD: Where will you sleep, then? Provided that you do sleep, rather than simply hang upside down from the rafters.
JON: I’ll sleep in the tub.
EDWARD: Of course you will. A natural conclusion! Why didn’t I think of that first? Stupid, stupid me.
JON: For fuck’s sake - you actually want to share the bed?
EDWARD: No, I don’t! I only offered to be polite!
JON: I could take the bed.
EDWARD: Oh no no no, I’m not that polite. After all, I paid for the room.
JON: Then what’s your fuckin’ problem?
EDWARD: Why did I even offer? You look like you live under a bridge and you smell like a disemboweled hog left in the sun for ten days - why would I offer?
JON: Why indeed. You want the tub then?
EDWARD: No, you go right ahead. You could have had the couch, but no no no, I’m so repugnant that you must take the bathtub. Not the couch, the bathtub. Enjoy the cold porcelain. May you and your hemorrhoids be very happy together.
JON: That’s just an old wives’ tale.
EDWARD: You’re an old wives’ tale, you wendigo. Pray excuse me, I must use your bedroom to change my clothes. (slams the bathroom door)
JON: (sighs)
(JON sits down on the bed with a creak; pause)
JON: (softly) Dumbass.
(EDWARD re-enters)
EDWARD: This sucks. This is not how it’s supposed to go - Waylon and I stayed in a hotel, for pity’s sake.
JON: Waylon in a hotel?
EDWARD: Four stars, no less.
JON: How’d he take that?
EDWARD: Out of his element, at first.
JON: Must have been strange for him.
EDWARD: He got the chance to splash around in a bathtub that was practically the size of this room, so that helped.
JON: Yeah, that’d do it.
EDWARD: In the middle of the night, he wanted to use the pool while everyone else was in bed. (staring off into space) It was Olympic sized… he must have done a hundred laps.
JON: How d’you know that?
EDWARD: He didn’t want to go alone, so I took a book. (chuckles) I think he felt like I was his interpreter; that I could talk rich person in case someone gave him trouble for existing. Like he’s not a man who can squash anyone like a tick.
JON: You know he’s not like that, not in his head.
EDWARD: Forever compressing himself to take up less space in the world when he could stand astride it like a behemoth. It’s a goddamn tragedy how… good he is.
JON: You got him books, right?
EDWARD: He’s this big empty bucket, waiting to be filled up.
JON: I’m sure he was grateful.
EDWARD: Of course he was; he’s always grateful. More grateful than anyone I know. So damn grateful, for the smallest fucking thing that costs me nothing.
JON: Sounds like he got to you.
EDWARD: (sigh) He does get under my skin. Just being himself, he finds a way to make me feel… not penitent, but...
JON: Yeah.
EDWARD: He let his ducks go; said they were too big to keep in the sewers.
JON: Ah. Sensible, but...
EDWARD: Yeah. (chuckles) But he stole a rubber duck from the hotel room.
JON: Master criminal. He name it yet?
EDWARD: Judy.
JON: Huh. Why Judy?
EDWARD: My idea. A rebel without a cause.
JON: Ah. He get the reference?
EDWARD: No. Knowing Waylon, he probably figured it was for St. Jude, which is also more than apropos.
JON: Yeah.
EDWARD: Well. At any rate - your tub awaits.
JON: Much obliged.
EDWARD: Not sure how you’re going to fit in it, but… that’s your concern. I suppose you could rest your legs on the wall.
JON: You’re missin’ out.
EDWARD: (scoffs) I bet.
(bathroom door closes; rustling of bed clothes)
EDWARD: (muttering) Idiot.
(long pause)
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: Is - is that for real?
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: Did he just pass out as soon as he put his head down?
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: How long has it been since he last slept?
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: Days? Weeks?
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: Great Caesar’s ghost… that is the snore of a man who sleeps alone. How did Ichabod not peck him to death? That - that’s love, for you, right there.
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: I’ll never be able to sleep through this - this - unearthly discordance.
(loud snoring)
EDWARD: And what the hell kind of repartee would you call that? Now he’s interrupting my thoughts. Right. Right. That’s it. That is IT - I’ve had it.
(rustle of bed clothes)
EDWARD: Where are my damn glasses - ah.
(door opening, tap turns on with a gush of water)
JON: Son of a goddamn motherfuckin’ - (spluttering) EDWARD. You better have a fuckin’ good reason for this -
EDWARD: You were snoring. Stop it.
JON: You asshole - you know I don’t have any other clothes! Not all of us brought fuckin’ green monogrammed silk pajamas, you long streak of -
EDWARD: (interrupting) Bored now. (slams the door)
JON: Ohh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, is it? We’re playin’, are we? Right. Just you wait.
(long pause)
(door opening; light snore of Edward)
JON: Sleeping pulse is… around 50 bpm. Perfect. Minimum dose. Now keep still, guinea pig.
(spritz of aerosol)
JON: Wait...
(pause)
JON: Pulse rate spiking. (pleased) Good.
EDWARD: (sleeping; twitching) No… can’t… see. Faces. Can’t… remember…
JON: Ahh, that’s different.
(thrashing noises as Edward’s sleep is disturbed)
EDWARD: Can’t… remember…
JON: You should be happy I’m so interested.
EDWARD: Must… remember…
JON: Are you - are you resisting? … I can’t believe it. You little shit.
EDWARD: … remember...
JON: Looks like I’m gonna need a new formula. Just for you.
EDWARD: (sleep disturbance)
JON: Call it a gift.
EDWARD: (sleep disturbance)
JON: Now we’re even. (yawns) Ah - couch. That’ll do. (collapse)
(pause)
EDWARD: (wakes with a gasp; sits up, takes some deep breaths) Huh. Weird. (shaky) I see you finally made it to the couch. Bravo. If only someone had suggested that sooner.
JON: Whassamatter? The bed bugs bite you?
EDWARD: Ugh - I’m trying not to think about who else has been in this bed.
JON: I bet you a buck they were having more fun.
EDWARD: I think I preferred when you were drunk; at least you were predictable.
JON: I wish I was still drunk; now, I just get to be hungover. My head’s pounding, and I have to listen to you. Is it any wonder I’m a bit tetchy?
EDWARD: Gibbering and odious? Nah. I’d say more bitchy than tetchy.
JON: You would know.
EDWARD: See, that attitude is why no one likes you.
JON: Sure it is. What’s your excuse?
EDWARD: I don’t care if people like me. I’m all I need.
JON: There’s a big ol’ mirror in the bathroom, you wanna be alone with it? Just remember to shut the door, first.
EDWARD: (laugh) Shut up. Speaking of your bedroom - I left my grooming kit by the sink. For the love of God - please, use it.
JON: Aw, you don’t like my beard? Does it upset your delicate sensibilities?
EDWARD: It disgusts me, as you’re already aware.
JON: Maybe I’ll keep it, then.
EDWARD: Hm. Alright. You know I hate to play dirty pool, but… Waylon and I checked your house before we found you in the barn.
JON: You and your thievin’ fingers. But so what? There’s nothin’ worth stealin’ in there.
EDWARD: I’m not talking about the dubious quality of the Crane valuables. It’s more about a certain portrait that had fallen off the wall.
JON: You mean the one with the big hole in it?
EDWARD: Yes, the one that somebody must have slashed down the centre. It was very deconstructed American Gothic.
JON: What about it?
EDWARD: The glare, the glasses, the gloom... it’s a teensy thing, really. I never noticed it before since I had no point of reference, but…
JON: Get to your fuckin’ point.
EDWARD: If your beard were more neatly clipped, you’d be a dead ringer for your father.
JON: (rising) That’s it. I’m shavin’ this off, right now. (door slams; running water)
EDWARD: Of course you will. (calling out) I hope you know how to use a straight razor.
JON: I know how to use a fuckin’ straight razor, jackass.
EDWARD: Just saying I could help.
JON: You’re not gettin’ anywhere near my throat with this thing.
EDWARD: Oh, ye of little faith.
JON: The size of this grooming kit defies belief, you damn dandy.
EDWARD: It’s what you do with it that counts.
JON: You’ve even got a strop for the razor.
EDWARD: Style never goes out of fashion.
JON: I s’pose it gets the job done.
EDWARD: (sighs) Heathen.
(door opens)
EDWARD: I can’t see you too well without my glasses, but… I think you look almost human.
JON: Gee, thanks. I don’t suppose you actually brought any of my clothes with you, Mr. Always Prepared?
EDWARD: (getting tired) What’s it to you?
JON: If I had a change of clothes, I could shower.
EDWARD: So you’d finally get that barnyard massacre smell off you?
JON: Yeah. That.
EDWARD: (smug) Matter of fact, I did; I wasn’t sure what state I’d find you in, but I figured it wouldn’t be pretty. Over there.
JON: … Huh. So you did.
EDWARD: (tired) I provided the maximum amount of style your wardrobe would allow, short of buying you a whole new one. There’s stuff from your medicine cabinet, too. Figured you wouldn’t want to use my stuff.
JON: You’d be right. Huh. … Thanks.
EDWARD: (yawns) You’re welcome. I’m just happy you’re not still covered in blood; that would have been awkward for the Waffle House.
JON: I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen some weird shit in a Waffle House.
EDWARD: I don’t doubt it. What did happen to your bloodied clothes? You didn’t do something stupid like keep them, did you?
JON: Nah, I burnt them.
EDWARD: Good. Justice has been done, then.
JON: I’m going to shower.
EDWARD: (sleepily) Hm... ‘kay.
(pause)
JON: Ed?
EDWARD: (no response)
JON: Edward?
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: Alright. I’m gonna tell you something that might surprise you.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: I don’t give a shit about sharing a bed. I really don’t. You wear pajamas and a sleeping mask, for fuck’s sake.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: My sleeping in the tub wasn’t about you.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: But then, everything’s about you, isn’t it? That’s one of your problems.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: You listen better when you’re asleep; that’s another problem.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: But anyway... I didn’t think I had a change of clothes; I figured a shower was pointless when I had to put the same stuff back on.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: Never figured you’d bring me some. Never figured you’d offer to share, neither. The bed, your stuff… just never figured.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: You’ve always been a selfish, smug little jackass. Why should I expect this time to be any different?
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: But it sounds like Waylon got the same treatment I’m getting now. So I drew a conclusion from that.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: This ain’t some elaborate trick. This is you when you actually give a damn.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: Never saw it before, ‘cos… (chuckles) Usually, you don’t give a damn ‘bout anyone but yourself.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: I bet you could count those people on a blind blacksmith’s hand.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: But then, I can’t claim much different.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: So yeah, this wasn’t about you - it was about me.
EDWARD: (dozing)
JON: So I wouldn’t have to listen to you complainin’ about how I stink all fuckin’ night, keepin’ me awake. I do wanna sleep sometime, ya’ jackass.
(door closes)
EDWARD: (murmuring; chuckles) Moron.
Comments
flsalazar
I love how you've captured these quaint little moments of Americana, having to stop at a waffle house, getting stuck with one bed to share in a crappy motel. I love how you've captured what it would be like for these characters beyond the borders of Gotham. You're doing so good I almost don't want them to go back to Gotham. Just let them run away and live life on the road and bicker like an old married couple for the rest of the series. I would be perfectly happy.
<3 <3 I can die in peace knowing that this is out there now. How wonderful.
