Bridge

“What are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”

“Excuse me, but did you just talk to me in English?”

“Geez! Are you drunk?! You realize you could’ve died?”

“It was half an escape attempt from some unsavory beings and half trying to get a better view of the lights, really…”

“You are drunk. Get down from there—”

“Wait—Are you American?”

“Yes. You better hope to god you’re not lost.”

“Hardly. Oh…I know you, don’t I?”

“No you don’t, now get up from that pavement before they call the police.”

“Yes—oh yes I know you.”

“Stop laughing! I didn’t have to stop and pull you down from there, you know—”

“I didn’t think I’d run into someone like you here. And at this blessed hour of the night. Or are you really naturally as much a nightowl as all the tabloids say?”

“Get over yourself—you’re the one who’s drunk and hanging off bridges.”

“Am I the only one? Because I’m certain I can smell alcohol from your breath—”

“Come that close to me again and I’m hurling you off this bridge myself.”

“That the police? I can’t tell, everything swimming—god, I could use some coffee—”

“Damn it, run!! Quit laughing and run, come on!!”

“So you do have a sense of adventure!!”

“Aren’t you going to at least tell me your name since we’re both running for our lives from the goddamned gendarmerie?!”

“All in good time!!”