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 INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY Jennifer, holding a backpack, leads Bob to a couch. They sit. BOB: Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. Especially since, you know, you don't know me from Adam. JENNIFER: Well, Emily and I are good friends. I'm surprised she isn't here. How do you know Emily? BOB: Emily? Oh, uh...the CBD support group. JENNIFER: I've never seen you there. But of course I don't always make the meetings. So what kind of condition do you need to treat? BOB: (pulls out cell phone, hits some buttons, sets it in his lap) Damn thing. I'm, uh, waiting for a... JENNIFER: No problem. BOB: (after a beat) Oh, uh. It's for anxiety. JENNIFER: Anxiety. Okay. You understand that CBD doesn't give you a buzz, right? It has amazing medicinal properties, everything from pain relief to anti-seizure, but it's not for recreational purposes. BOB: Yeah, I know, I know. But it treats anxiety, doesn't it? I'd like a hundred dollars worth. JENNIFER: Sure thing. I only asked out of habit, you know, from back when people got medical cards to treat their... (makes air quotations) Anxiety. I've actually had several patients with real, crippling anxiety who were helped by CBD. You said a hundred, right? (Bob nods. Jennifer unzips the backpack, pulls out two small packages and puts them on the couch between them.) BOB: I can’t believe the awesome price. Compared to the dispensaries-- JENNIFER: Well, I'm a patient too. I understand how hard it is to make ends meet. (as Bob pulls out a checkbook and pen) Do you mind paying in cash? I thought I made that clear over the phone. BOB: I just wanted a receipt of the payment. For my taxes. It's okay. He pulls out his wallet and produces a hundred-dollar bill, holds it out to her, smiling. She eyes him suspiciously, hesitates, finally accepts the money. BOB: This is all above board, isn't it? JENNIFER: (after a tense moment) Oh sure, sure. BOB: Maybe I should...can I see your license? Jennifer glances down at his phone, sees it recording a voice memo. JENNIFER: Are you recording... Look. Let's not do this. (She tries to hand him back the hundred-dollar bill but he won't take it.) JENNIFER: What the hell... What is this all about? Are you the police? BOB: No, I'm not the police. But if you're selling without a license-- JENNIFER: I have a license! I just don't have it with me. BOB: Okay. With what provider? JENNIFER: Mo. Mo Joe. BOB: (laughs) Mo Joe Malachite? That's rich. But he's not, so you're going to end up bankrupting him. Let me do you a favor. (He snatches the C-note from her, rises and leaves without the CBD. Jennifer stands up, watches in disbelief.)
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