Work Text:
A Sabretti's hotdog cart on the northwest corner of Spring Street and 6th Avenue, 8:30 am. Frank Vernon is midway through a hotdog transaction when his phone rings. It's Kendall. Frank internally debates not picking up after the dressing-down at the Dust pitch meeting yesterday. He does anyway. On the other end of the line, Kendall sounds agitated.
"Yeah, Frank. Those girls from the art thing, I want you to put the word around they're junkies, they're sluts, they're shooting seed capital straight into their arms. Let's sink them."
Kendall hangs up. Approximately eighteen seconds pass.
"Yeah, okay, let me just uhhhhhhhhhhhh do that," says Frank, who is ordering a frankfurter with sweet relish for breakfast, to no one at all.