EXT. PARKING LOT
Large drives out of the parking lot. There, seated at the bus stop is Sam bobbing her head to music. She wears a backpack and holds an odd locking helmet in her hand.
Large pulls up along side her.
LARGE: So why were you really there?
SAM: Charging. I’m a robot.
LARGE: Do you lie a lot?
SAM: What do you consider a lot?
LARGE: Enough for people to call you a liar.
SAM: People call me lots of things.
LARGE: Is one of them “liar”?
SAM: I could say “no”, but how will you know I’m not lying?
LARGE: Because I could choose to trust you.
SAM: You can do that?
LARGE: I can try.
SAM: Whose bike is that?
LARGE: It was my grandfather’s. It was the only thing he left to anyone in my family and he left it to me. And I like it.
There’s a little awkward pause.
SAM: So, this is the point in the conversation where you ask me if I’d like a ride home?
LARGE: It is?
LARGE: Would you like a ride home?
SAM: Fine, but I’m not getting in that sidecar.
LARGE: Why not?
SAM: Sidecars are for bitches. Anyone who gets in that is automatically your bitch. Thus, I will ride on the back.
She climbs on the back behind him and both put their helmets on. He starts the engine.
LARGE: Hold on tight.
SAM: OK, holdin’.
They drive off.
SAM: My hair’s blowing in the wind!