[With pursed lips, Laura ruefully examines the single section of scorched hair.] Uh…thanks. [Smiling sheepishly, she takes in Brady’s prone form.] Well I think you’ve finally managed to do the impossible…I’m speechless. [Gingerly she moves to the edge of the bed and groans lightly.] You know I don't think two concussions within a month’s time is really the key to a healthy lifestyle...[Feeling the wooziness wash over her, she clamps her eyes shut tight and breaths deeply.] What do you think?

Grace: Probably not.

[Opening her eyes, the fog begins to lift.] No…probably not. [Shifting her attention from Grace back to Brady, Laura’s eyes glitter mischievously as she tentatively approaches him.] I think the curls are very becoming. [Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, she glances at Grace—an unreadable smile lighting her eyes.] You out did yourself this time. [Grace’s brow quirks.] It’s a bold statement…practically screams, “I’m out and proud.” [Her eyes darken and her lips twitch in unconscious humor.] But then you’re a bold kind of guy…aren’t you dear? [Brady shirks away as Laura pats him on the knee.]

Brady: Get your damn hands off me you psycho!

[Awkwardly standing up, Laura stumbles backwards into the solid stability of a nearby chair. As clarity begins to peek through her glassy eyes, laughter infuses her voice.] Whatever conclusion we reach…just please promise me that I won’t end up stuck with Tiny Tim.

Grace: Ah, you mean you don’t want to council him on his gender identification issues?

[Laughs], I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough medication for such an undertaking. In fact, I’m not sure there are enough drugs in the free world…

Brady: [Interrupting], Would you two bitches stop talking about me like I’m not here!

[Swiping a hand down her leg], Lord boy…do we need to get you a spit guard? [Turning back to Grace], I’m famished. What are the chances there’s any food in the house?

Grace: [Crinkling her nose in disdain], I guess that all depends on one’s definition of food.

[Tugging at her ear], Well, let’s see…I’ve not had anything to eat [Laura’s brow furrows in concentration.] in what…over a week? [Grace nods marginally.] And what little food I did have in my system has long since been expelled thanks to the nasty bought of nausea that accompanied this last concussion…compelling me to the point of dry heaves—I feel like I’ve been turned inside out and back again. It’s all I can do to stand up without my legs turning to jello…so at this stage in the game I don’t think I can afford to be terribly finicky. [Unsteadily making her way over to the kitchenette, Laura begins to rifle through the cabinets.] Aha!

Grace: What?

[Holding up a can of soup], It’s not gourmet, but I think it will do. And hey, at least it’s not Brady Chowder. [Grabbing a couple cans of fruit], Well this just may be my lucky day…even have a little dessert.

Grace: [Chuckles darkly], You really are dangerous.

[A crooked grin tugs at the corner of Laura’s lips.] So I’ve been told…
confessed by Laura at 4:12 PM