SETTING: An extremely generic elevator in a West Village office building. It is Month Quadrillion in Quarantime.
PLAYERS: A 50-year-old broad-shouldered, broad-breasted broad, armored in full space crone gear (blonde and grey braids; fur hat, fur boots, fur fingerless gloves, sunglasses, and double mask–all purple). A 30ish cis-male of same height, clad head to toe in expensive muscles and athletic gear, including Apple Airpods Pro and inexplicably white and dry Nike Air Force Supreme trainers though outside it is sleeting.
ACT I: Space crone enters elevator car and sighs in relief upon ascertaining it is empty. Just as doors are closing, a hand snakes in and cis-male, maskless and jabbering loudly into phone via airpods, jumps in.
SC (shoving her foot in doors before they shut completely): Put a mask on or get off.
CM (into phone, without looking at her): Nobody. (He jabs “shut doors” button while SC stares at him intently, keeping foot in doors.) Some bitch, I don’t know. (Jabs button again.)
SC (fists clenched): I know you’re not deaf. So hear me when I say I will jump your ass if you don’t GET THE FUCK OFF THIS CAR. (Raises fists, takes a step forward, eyes flashing.)
CM (jumps out, yells): Crazy old cunt! (SC smizes as doors clang shut definitively.)
