Okay, okay. Okay.
( There’s a sound in the background, probably recognisable to most as a microwave. There’s another sound that might be recognisable to some by now: Sarissa being a little drunk. )
So, tragedy: wet clothes. Disaster, right? I was thinking, I can’t put ‘em in a dryer, ‘cause they’ll shrink. And I can’t put ‘em on a line out in the sun, because this place is a big fuck you to that whole concept, I bet, even in summer.
Problem solved, though. I’m on it.
( She is not, in fact, on it. In fact, though it cannot be seen by the listener or Sarissa, her clothes are starting to smoke, rather than steam. ) Anyways, I was telling Molly about how handy microwaves are, and then I thought: hey. Extra problem solving.
(Off-screen, Molly says:) Uh, Sarissa? Is there supposed to be this much smoke?
Ain’t smoke, mate. It’s steam. ( She’ll be right. There’s a long pause, and then— ) oh motherfuck!