Art’s apartment. Art and Claire are sitting on the sofa. An abstract painting in blood red, black and blue hangs on the wall.
CLAIRE: Fancy a movie tonight? Or that new Italian on the High Street?
ART: Nah – thought we could stay in with a DVD and a takeaway.
Art grabs some take away menus from next to the sofa.
CLAIRE: Did you get any work done while I was out shopping?
ART: I certainly did. I mowed the lawn and trimmed back the hedges.
CLAIRE: I meant painting! I want to be your muse, like Maria was.
ART: (Glancing at the painting on the wall) That study in blood, sweat and tears? She’s well past her sell-by date. Not a patch on you and your outstanding natural beauty. It’s like comparing an over-ripe Stilton with the white cliffs of Dover. Chalk and cheese. I don’t miss the stormy seas, I’m quite happy to coast along.
CLAIRE: When we met, you were passionate and hungry for success, but now…
ART: (looking at the menu) I’m ravenous. So – what’s it to be? Chinese or Indian?
CLAIRE: Oh, why don’t we go mad and order Thai?