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FADE IN:
EXT. HOTEL – NIGHT
The hotel is a blandly colored L-shaped building, uniformly concise and simplistic in nearly every aspect of its construction. Identically sized and positioned windows are punctuated by doors whose only difference from each other is the number displayed at eye level. An occasional pair of plastic chairs with a small metal table between them provide infrequent breaks from the design monotony.
A few cars occupy the perfectly square parking lot, sitting directly outside the door of the room in which their occupant resides, but it is for the most part empty, the neon of the establishment’s vacancy sign casting an eerie pink glow across the asphalt. The night sky, still visible over the roof of the hotel, has taken a visibly darker turn--it is nearly pitch-black in tone, with clouds having positioned themselves to begin blotting out the stars and the moon.
Art’s truck pulls into the lot, rolling to a stop just outside the semi-attached office in its bottom left corner, and with the engine still running the driver’s side door opens and he hops out, disappearing into the office before reemerging a short time later.

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INT. TRUCK CAB
The driver’s side door of the truck opens, drawing Isabel’s attention, and out of the air she snatches a small metal-and-plastic object – a key with an attached tag – as it sails into the cab. She turns it over in her palm, examining it, before looking up to watch Art climb back inside, settle into his seat and shut the door behind him.

ISABEL
(holding up key) What’s this?

ART
Your room key. I got you the one right next to mine, should you need anything.

ISABEL
His and hers, huh?

ART
Because of your independent spirit...Seeing as you’ve been protective of your privacy the whole night, I figured it was what you’d want.

ISABEL
Fair enough. (pocketing key) Thanks.

ART
Don’t mention it.

ISABEL
Mention what?

ART
(smirking) Smartass...

Art shifts the vehicle into drive and guides it leisurely through the parking lot, continuing to talk as he does so.
Isabel sits bolt upright in her seat beside him. She is much more alert and attentive than she was just hours earlier, and a flitting, bird-like intensity is noticeable in her gaze and demeanor.

ART
You’re sure I can’t just take you on to the bus station? It wouldn’t be an issue. It’s just a little ways down the road.

ISABEL
(shakes head) I’ll walk over in the morning. I’ve been on the road the last couple of days...It’ll be nice to sleep in a real bed tonight.

ART
(chuckling) Don’t know how you’re planning on sleeping, but alright.

ISABEL
What do you mean?

The truck comes to a final stop, and as he shifts into park Art turns to Isabel, incredulous.

ART
What do I mean? (killing engine, pocketing keys) Hell, look at you. I don’t know what they put in your food that wasn’t in mine, but...You’re totally wired.

ISABEL
(with a small smile) I guess I’m just a night person.

ART
You’re something, all right...
Art exits the truck, followed shortly afterwards by Isabel.

EXT. HOTEL PARKING LOT – NIGHT
Shutting her door firmly behind her, Isabel looks up at the two hotel room doors that the truck sits parked between, then down at the number on the plastic tag attached to her key. Her room is the one on the left. She starts towards it but stops, her gaze drawn back towards the truck by the sound of another door opening, and backpedals just enough to be able to look through the window of the back passenger-side door.
Through the glass she observes Art as he pushes open the opposite door and stoops to retrieve something sitting in the floorboard, re-emerging with what looks like some kind of cardboard box, although he carries it like it’s much heavier than just a box. He shuts the door, and as she walks in time with him around to the front of the vehicle the object he carries, a carton of beer, comes into focus.

ISABEL
Where’d you get those?

ART
(looking down at the drinks) Stopped for ‘em before I picked you up. I was plannin’ on drinkin’ ‘til I passed out once I found somewhere to stop for the night, but... (shrugs) You want one?

ISABEL
...What do they taste like?

ART
...You ain’t never had one before?

She shakes her head no. Art stands a bit, thinking, then tears open the carton and produces a single, unopened aluminum can, offering it to her.

ART
Here...Try it.

ISABEL
(smiling) That’s against the law, isn’t it?

ART
Well...My thoughts on that are that if you’re old enough to be out here roughing it on your own, then you’re probably old enough to have a beer.

She still doesn’t take it, uncertain.

ART
Look, tell you what...I’m gonna go find an ice machine and a bucket, stick a couple of these bad boys in there. You can go get settled, and then if you’re feeling up to it, maybe sit and talk a while longer and have a drink with me.

ISABEL
(thinking it over, then nodding) Alright.

With a smile, Art steps up onto the curb and sets the drinks aside, producing his key and unlocking the (cont.) door with a soft click. He steps inside, letting the door hang open, and re-emerges a beat later with a small black bucket in hand, walking off in the direction of the office in search of an ice machine.
Isabel watches him go, then approaches her own door and unlocks it, stepping inside as the door swings open shutting it again gently behind her.

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EXT. HOTEL STRIP – NIGHT
One of the table and chair sets sits outside in the space between the two rooms, and sitting in the right-hand chair with an open beer in hand is Art, his makeshift cooler resting on the metal tabletop beside him. He sips his drink, gazing wordlessly off into the horizon for a beat, then sips again.
The door on the opposite end of the table opens, drawing Art’s attention, and as Isabel re-emerges from her room into the cool night he greets her with a warm smile.

ISABEL
I hope I didn’t hold you up...

ART
Don’t I look held up? (lifting his drink for her to see) Ready for that drink?

ISABEL
(nodding) You’ve piqued my curiosity, I must admit...

As Isabel eases herself down into the other chair (cont.) Art produces another beer from the bucket and cracks it open with a hiss, handing it across to her once she’s settled and holding his own drink out for a toast.

ART
Cheers...

Clinking her can against his, Isabel cups the beverage in both hands, peering down into the opening and even taking a whiff of its odor before finally lifting it to her lips and sipping, a bit more than is perhaps necessary.
In the next moment her eyes go wide, and after nearly spitting the amber fluid back out she carries on for a beat once she manages to swallow, gagging and coughing. Art, regarding the ordeal with amused delight, breaks out into laughter at the sight of her whipping a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting/puking/both.
ART
(laughing) That good, huh?

ISABEL
(coughing and clearing throat, smiling) Yeah, I...I don’t think it’s really for me.

ART
It gets better with time...Take it slow with small sips, would be my advice to you.

Hesitantly, Isabel drinks again, albeit a much smaller sip than the previous one. She still winces a little as she swallows, but it goes down much smoother than before. Following suit, Art drains the remnants of his can and tosses it into a small trash can dragged out from his room, fishing out another and cracking it open as she sets hers aside temporarily (he does this another few times before all’s said and done, not exactly taking it slow).
The clouds have parted enough to allow a sliver of silver moon and some stars to shine through. The duo sit silently looking at them for a beat, and then Isabel starts humming a tune that evolves into full-blown, albeit soft, singing after a few seconds.

ISABEL
(singing) The nights are cool...And I’m a fool...Each star’s a pool of water...

ART
(smiling) Johnny Cash...I’ll be damned. Suddenly I don’t feel so old hanging around a youngster like you.

ISABEL
(shrugging) It was the only song I could think of off the top of my head that was about stars.

ART
Heh...You really are an old soul, ain’t ya?

Isabel stares a beat, not comprehending. In the next moment Art himself launches into song, at least an octave lower than the pitch at which the song is normally sung as well as a little off-key, but otherwise competently so.

ART
(singing) Look at the stars...Look how they shine for you, and all the things you do...Yeah, they were all yellow...

ISABEL
Who was that?

ART
That was Coldplay.

ISABEL
(shaking head) Can’t say I’ve ever heard of them.

ART
(chuckling) Neither had I, ‘til my daughter became a fan...

ISABEL
Are you close? You and your daughter, I mean?

This seemingly small question shows its impact by shifting the mood of the drinking and conversating quite jarringly. Art tries to shake off how much he’s been shaken by her asking with a chuckle, even as his facial expression darkens.

ART
Close? Hell, I don’t know about all that...I did the best I could when I could get the time off from work, but...No, not really anymore. I’ve still got visitation rights, so I try to make it out to see her sometimes, but...I can’t always.

ISABEL
That’s why you and your wife separated? Your job?

ART
(nodding) Yeah...Yeah, that’s right.

ISABEL
I’m sorry.

ART
(shrugging) It wasn’t Haley’s fault. The long hours and crap pay would wear anyone down.

ISABEL
What do you do?

ART
Immigrations and Customs Enforcement Agent.

This gets her attention.

ISABEL
You’re a cop...?

ART
(shakes head) No, not exactly...

ISABEL
Do you have a gun?

ART
(nodding) In the glovebox of the truck. You wanna see it?

Isabel sits thinking for a beat, starts to say something, stops and thinks a bit longer, then finally shakes her head no.

ART
(smiling) Well...Let me know if you change your mind.

Art drains the last dregs of his beer, crushes and tosses it, reaching for another and opening it. He’s had a few by this point, and Isabel can see it, though she doesn’t say anything.

ART
(after a beat) ...Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you as well.

ISABEL
What’s that?

Art’s eyes fall from her to his drink for a beat, and as he sits silently he rocks back and forth a little. Isabel sits watching him, uncertain, until finally he looks back up at her.
ART
Are you a, uh...An uninvited visitor from down south...?

ISABEL
What?

ART
Are you here illegally?

ISABEL
(with a chuckle) What makes you think that?

ART
(smiling) Avoidin’ givin’ away anything too personal and... (raising his beer) Lettin’ me get good and drunk so’s I’ll open up a bit more? That’s not something that just any runaway would know to do.

Isabel starts to get defensive, but Art raises a hand to stop her.

ART
Relax...It’s nothing that wasn’t gonna happen anyways. All you did was expedite the process. Just tell me...Am I right?

ISABEL
(nodding, after a beat) ...I wasn’t born in this country. And I’m not a citizen of this nation.

A long beat passes silently between them before Isabel breaks it.

ISABEL
Gonna take me in now, Mr. Immigration Agent...?

ART
(scoffing) Hell no. I was just thinking... (pausing, then asking) Haven’t you ever, you know...Wanted to become legal? Maybe settle down, not have to live constantly lookin’ over your shoulder on the run anymore? Smart kid like you, you could stay in the country as a Dreamer, go to school, make something of yourself.

ISABEL
(shakes head) I used to think about it sometimes, but...There wouldn’t really be much point in it anymore. My parents aren’t around, and I don’t have anywhere else to go... (shrugs) This is all I’ve ever known. So like it or not...This is me, I guess.

ART
(after a beat) Well...That’s your decision, I can respect that. I’m not gonna sit here and tell you how to live your life.

Another long beat passes in silence. Art drinks like its going out of style tomorrow while Isabel’s first beer, resting just off the back-right leg of her chair, sits virtually untouched and forgotten. Her eyes grow thoughtful and she chuckles, drawing Art’s attention.

ART
What is it?

ISABEL
Nothing, it’s just that... (pausing, then continuing) You said I was letting you get drunk so that you’d open up about yourself.

ART
Okay...?

ISABEL
(looking to him) Well, that wasn’t quite right. The reason I let you get drunk was so that your inhibitions would be lowered enough for me to do this...

Art turns to her, no doubt about to ask, “Do what?”, but is stopped when his lips unexpectedly lock with hers. Isabel now leans across the tabletop, a hand resting on its surface to support her while she does so, and with the other she palms the back of his head to draw him (cont.) deeper into the kiss.
Art’s eyes go wide, and his hands move to her shoulders to pry her off, but after a beat he relents and his eyes flutter shut, pulling her closer to feel the warmth and the softness of her. He knows it’s wrong, but she’s young and beautiful, and in that moment he just can’t help himself.
Another beat, though, and common sense kicks back in. In a single motion he forcefully detaches himself from her and jumps out of his chair, heart racing and breath ragged as he tries to make sense of what he’s just done.

ISABEL
What’s wrong?

ART
(between heavy breaths) That...I shouldn’t have done that.

ISABEL
Why not?

ART
You’re...Hell, you’re just a kid... (running a hand through his hair) What the hell’s the matter with me...?

ISABEL
Well... (leaning forward) My thoughts as to that are that if I’m old enough to be out here roughing it on my own, then I’m old enough to decide what to do with my own body.

Art stares at her, not quite believing what he’s hearing. She continues on.

ISABEL
A man’s got needs...That’s part of why you stopped, isn’t it? It wasn’t just to be a good person...

ART
(shaking head) No, I...

ISABEL
How long has it been since you’ve had a woman? Since you and your wife separated?

This comment sends Art wheeling on a dime, fury burning in his eyes, but he softens after a moment, his anger dissipating as his arched shoulders slump in defeat. She’s right, and because of this her words make a strange sort of sense to his inebriated mind.
His eyes fall upon her in equal parts skepticism and serious consideration. Isabel stares back, unflinching, the slightest of smiles teasing her lips and one eyebrow slightly arched.

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