Int. Chldrn's Party - Night *Disorienting camera in a fisheye lens. Molly and Bill, the shadiest of shadow-coats and baseball caps, crouched on the ledge, surveying their feast - plunder's thin slice.* *The camera gently zooms out as Molly flips up her visor oft he seemin bright lights o' the battleground.* *The shopping's last! Of the meriest season! Oh, the chill of lucrative nights for the brave. The guile of the desperate reduced to usurious hounds. That wayward mentality enclosed by walls amiss.* *The Americans are finally here - with their pressing party at The Chutchens. Bashful recompense for the interactin known as playin.* *Molly in slouch, and Bill up. Retinal hertz, and vertical horizons. Molly scans the room, her eyes driven by hunger as she fixates on her next meal. Bill, gripped by the excitement, is coiled like a snake ready to strike.*