910 medina studios, arts district, 11:01pm
carson’s pillow vibrates. it’s that call he was expecting…he reaches under his pillow, notices a heap of missed calls from russ. he sighs heavily and answers his phone…
carson: (mumbles) hey
anthony: (annoyed)fucking finally… you force eden to call me to tell me…just everything…and now you don’t you answer your phone?
carson: (groggily) sorry…
anthony: did i wake you up?
carson: yeah, kinda…
anthony: it’s like, 11 there. early night?
carson: no. i…took a nap. so uh, how have you been? we haven’t talked for-
anthony: (terse) let’s keep this brief. i don’t really care to catch up beyond what eden dumped on me. you want me to keep an eye on her while she’s out here? fine, but that didn’t need two phone calls. why did i have to call you?
carson: (mutters) straight to the fucking point as always. (sighs) it’s because i might need you to do something else for me…and it’s gotta be quick…
