Mike rolls into L.A. His hatchback, his hermit crab shell, is packed roof high.
Later, drinking a beer, he admires Lars’ Emmy for Sound Editing sitting on the shabby coffee table.
“Look, there’s been a development,” says Lars casually. “The financing fell through last week.”
Gut-punched, Mike suspects his new job has just evaporated.
“Turns out my principal investor’s elderly mother controls the money, not him. She killed the deal.”
Lars is working on securing new funding. Mike tastes bile. He would have graduated this semester.
“You want to be a screenwriter, so I decided you needed to be out here anyway.”