Cook is smoking on the porch, looking at a city that bustles with life, acting like the horrors of a killer robot or sadistic cult is something still kept beyond the veil. She’s wearing a shirt that obviously doesn’t belong to her in size; it’s big enough to cloak her naked form, silhouetted under the white blouse. Standing at the balcony corner, smoking, a distant figure can be seen about as big as a dot in the air.
Shirt hem billowing away from Cook’s ass which is silhouetted under it. (A SHAMELESS ASS SHOT YES)
Cook:
Looking down from up here. It can make man feel like God.
The cigarette pulled out for an exhale, showing only city lights in the background. Shot of mostly lips/breast and some face.
Cook:
Not here here. Just anywhere above the rest. Where it turns people into ants.
Cook’s full shirted figure revealed on a windy balcony, at night, over the city lights. She’s looking towards a dot of a male figure.
Cook:
But what if it’s those looking up that see a God? Hypocrites that expect sweat and blood without straining their own.
Looking away again so she can exhale smoke, as the shadow of a male figure coats over her much smaller frame.
When he lands, you see his face and star emblem chest, as he’s standing behind Cook, who’s face is now also revealed.
Bill:
They say every puff takes a year off your life, Miss Cook. You should really consider dropping the habit.
Cook:
So you keep reminding me.
Cook snubs out her cigarette then flicks it off the side.
Cook:
Welcome home.
The cigarette is tumbling down with city lights flickering passed it in blurs.
Cook:
Bill reaches out and pulls her back up against his chest for an embrace. He holds her with desperation like it’s the only reason to keep standing.
The cigarette is tumbling down with city lights flickering passed it in blurs.
Cook:
She turns around in his arms before lips pressed brush over the emblem star as her fingers do the same.
The cigarette is tumbling down with city lights flickering passed it in blurs.
Cook:
Silouette figures enter through the open balcony door. Arms are seen held over Cook’s head, who’s now laying on her back on the bed.
The cigarette is tumbling down with city lights flickering passed it in blurs.
Cook:
The blouse she wore is seen as it’s torn from her body, buttons still done up though the fabric is now in ruins. Bill’s belt has already been done, falling off on his leg and the top of the spandex outfit pulled up so his muscular back is beginning to be seen.
The cigarette is tumbling down with city lights flickering passed it in blurs.
Cook:
…between his selfless sacrifices and unwaving/unsatable passion I can see my own salvation from my sins. Just as long as I stay focused on him.
The bed leg is shown breaking, and there’s two eye shaped red dots in pure darkness.
The cigarette is tumbling down with city lights flickering passed it in blurs.
Cook:
And I don’t dare look away, but even if I wanted to…
A full body show of both shows them in the very mist of their love making, where Cook is on the bottom but propped up by the large hand circled around her neck. Bill stares down at her as his eyes are flaring red. Muscles are strained not from force by from restraint, as he tries to stay as gentle as he can remember to be. Despite what pain he must be feeling, evident in curled toes and gripping fingers, her face is of attentive interest as she stares back. (Smaller panel of his hand?)
Cook: Internal Dialog: … he won’t let me.
