A Simple Question

As we lay our heads on the pillow, the Dreamer casts his net, reaching through the--
Chess: "Zandeer."
--aether, to pull a vision of grand--
Chess: "Zandeer."
A pause... A fatal interruption, as we pan down to--
Chess: "Zandeer, I swear on my father's bones, I'll pluck a feather if you don't shut the fuck up and get to the point."
Zandeer: "This is rather uncalled for."
Chess: "Says the peeping tom who shares visions of people without their consent."
A gentle silence.
A simple question.
Chess: "What do you want?"
Zandeer: "Are you going to give them the money?"
Chess: "Who?"
Zandeer: "I'm painting dreams for the... The Dream Team."
Chess: "If I pay them, will you leave me the fuck alone?"
A somber pause...
A fierce agreement.
Zandeer: "Yes."
Chess: "Fine. Done."
A subtle quiet, a lull between harsh--
Chess: "Zandeer?"
Zandeer: "Yes?"
Chess: "Goodbye."
Some of us have no appreciation for art.