They look at each other for a while.
Meredith: I’d like it if you wrote to me.
Eilidh: Okay.
Pause.
Eilidh: Wait. Will you write back?
Meredith sighs exasperatedly.
Meredith: Fine.
Eilidh: I just want to talk to you.
Meredith: I do talk to you.
Pause.
Meredith, grudgingly: I love you.
Eilidh shakes her head.
Eilidh: You’re only saying that because I screamed at you.
Meredith: Well, yeah. I didn’t realize you didn’t know.
Eilidh: The genius/idiot complex strikes again.
Meredith: Take care of Arthur.
Eilidh: Why? He already has all hands on deck.
Meredith: Too many hands on that deck.
Eilidh: Literally every single hand is on that deck.
Meredith: Please stop talking about our brother’s deck.
Eilidh: What are you going to do in prison?
Meredith: It’s prison, Eilidh, not St. Bart’s.
Eilidh: I really wanted Chirp to work.
Meredith: I know. That’s why I’m going.
Eilidh: You told me you could make me happy.
Meredith: I shouldn’t have done that.
Eilidh: No, I’m saying—I’m saying thank you. Because in at least one instance, you were right.
They share a moment of sentimentality.
Meredith: Okay, well. I’m going to take a shower. Want pizza?
Eilidh: Yes please.