Only Lovers Left Alive Page #3

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Wonderful.

Name of Fibonacci.

()

(DOORBELL RINGS)

(BUZZING)

(DOOR OPENS)

- IAN:
Hey, I hope this isn't a bad time.

- Hm.

IAN:
I wanted to come right away

because I have that thing for you.

Wooden bullet, .38 caliber.

It's cocobolo.

Dalbergia retusa.

For your art project.

Guy made it for me,

no questions asked.

He said the wood was so dense

that it sinks in water.

And I think they make

guitars out of it too.

Both are true, yeah.

It's perfect.

Thank you, Ian.

No problem, man.

You know, for a zombie,

you're all right.

Thanks.

Please.

Oh, no, man. You already paid

me so much the other time.

- It's okay.

- Ian, please.

You bought my car and everything.

Thank you, Adam.

Uh...

Anything else you might need, man?

Anything you want me to get you?

There were some rock 'n' roll kids

here last night, ringing my doorbell.

- Really?

- Yeah.

How do they know where you live?

No one f***ing lives out here.

I don't know, but it's not cool.

We talked about this.

I know. I know we did, man.

It's not cool at all. It's completely

f***ed up. How would they...?

All right, I know. Don't worry.

I'm gonna spread some

rumors, very cautiously,

about where you might live and

just throw them way off track.

Whatever you need to

do, please do it.

Just take care of it.

- I'm on it.

- Okay.

Look, I'll see you later.

I've got something I need to do.

(PEOPLE SPEAKING

ARABIC IN DISTANCE)

You know...

I had a dream...

about your infamous

little sister last night.

You had a dream about Ava?

What sort of a dream, Kit?

Kit?

What?

Oh, sorry. I...

- Sorry. I drifted away for a minute.

- Heh, heh.

- You were miles away.

- Heh, heh.

- Italy, actually.

- Ha, ha, ha.

Few hundred years ago.

Was he painfully good-looking?

- What?

- Ha, ha, ha.

Uh...

Look, I know I don't

have to say this to you,

but please be cautious.

I couldn't bear it if...

I couldn't bear it if

something happened to you.

Frankly, I don't understand why

you don't live in the same place

because you can't live

without each other.

Anyway, give my regards to that

suicidally romantic scoundrel.

Do you really think he is?

Scoundrel? Heh, heh. Yes.

Well, let's hope

he's just romantic.

Even so, I mainly blame

Shelley and Byron

and some of those French a**holes

he used to hang around with.

Oh, I wish that I had met

him before I wrote Hamlet.

He would have provided the most

perfect role model imaginable.

()

(IMITATES GUNSHOT)

EVE:
Love alters not, with

his brief hours and weeks

But bears it out even

to the edge of doom

If this be error and upon me proved

I never writ, nor no man ever loved

(SIGHS)

Marlowe.

(CAN OPENS)

MAN:
Ow. Sh*t.

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