Randy: -hands her a few bags- Get whatever you want...-faint groans outside- Ill take care of our 'guests'
Harry:Karla: yeah,
Ophelia: okay. -disappears into the shop-
Harry:Karla: you sure? You're not gonna die?
Harry:Karla: -sits on the bed and hums a tune-
Harry:Ophelia: -In the shop searching around through mostly empty boxes and darkness-
Karla: Did you get bitten? Or go suicidal?
Harry:Ophelia: -hears him shout and runs back dropping the bags-
Karla: well, are you hurt? -pierces the straw through the foil bit and drinks-
Harry:Karla: No it's fine. One was enough. -throws it back and joins him on the floor by the platter, making sure to cover her thing-