Sean stared at the phone for a minute before putting it back to his ear. "The fuck is this? Do I know you?" "It's Karl, man. Who'd you think it was?" "No clue. Haven't heard from you in months, Christ's sake," Sean said, and fished out a cigarette from the crumpled back on the table. "Well, you're hearing from me now and I need help." Sean lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. "Tell me." "I need you to help me with some Russian pronunciations for an audition." "Beg pardon?" "You heard me." "That's it? That's your favor?" "Didn't say favor, said help." "Same bloody thing, innit?" Sean asked. "Makes you think I know Russian?" "Your films, man. C'mon. Marton's out of touch and I really need some help with this." "You want me to teach you Russian? Over the phone? For a part?" "Yeah." "Fucking psychotic." "I'm willing to bribe you." "Never heard you sound so desperate before." "It's a great part. You gonna do it or not?" "I should make you suffer. But I won't." Sean lit a new cigarette on the embers of the old one and settled in his chair. "But I'm not cheap. I want a bottle of Glenlivet Black Label and a new pair of Ferragamos to replace the ones you lost. After you stole them." "You let me borrow them, and I already replaced them." "Well, do it again." "You lost them already? Fuck, Sean, they're 400 dollar sunglasses." "I prefer the term misplaced. Deal?" "Yeah, sure." Whatever you want." Sean grinned. "Ah, well, in that case..."
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