"Elizabeth walks into Liam's living room, where he lays sprawled on the couch, watching a movie. She falls into a chair and says, "What are you watching?" "Shoe Leather : The Movie." "What?" He turns toward her. "Have you ever heard that expression, shoe leather? It's what they call useless bits in movies, like characters walking places or doing mundane things that don't need to be shown. This," he says, turning back to the screen, "is shoe leather, the movie." "Why are you watching it, then?" "I heard it was good, so I thought I'd give it a try." "Where'd you hear that?" "I don't know. Just places. Look at this; they've been talking for over five minutes and nobody's said anything even remotely interesting. Amazing." "I always wonder how they get funding for this sort of stuff." She watches for a moment before saying, "I wonder how anybody sits down and writes it?" "I know. It's just a slice in the life of a bunch of boring jerks." "And look at how they all look at the ground when they walk, and how nobody looks directly at anybody else. How long have you been watching this for?" "About forty minutes. And check out the close ups on that girls face when she's being mean to her mother. Nobody needs to see that." "What's this movie really called, anyway?" He turns to look straight at her and smiles, his eyebrows raised slightly. He waits a moment before saying, "Life is Sweet." They look at each other in silence for a moment before bursting out laughing. She holds her sides as she tries to control herself, but she just can't stop laughing. Eventually they both regain their composure and watch with a smile as the actors onscreen continue to putter about. Elizabeth reaches for the movie's case and browses it over. "Jesus Christ," she says, wiping a tear from her eye. "Did you know this movie actually won awards?" "It did?" "Yeah! Three of them!" They laugh a little bit more before he says, "I think that's enough of this," and turns the television off. He stands up and stretches as she looks up at him. "Is anybody else home?" "Why," he says, grinning at her. "Feeling naughty?" She scowls at him. "Have I ever been 'feeling naughty'?" "Beats me. I figured maybe I've been missing out. I might be lousy at reading signals." "Read this signal," she says, giving him the finger as she looks away. "That's the international signal for wanting a glass of orange juice." She sits in silence for moment before standing up and saying, "Yes, that is what it meant." She walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. He walks in after her, getting them a pair of glasses. "So if this were a movie," she says, taking a container of juice from the fridge, "How would we avoid the shoe leather? Would I have to teleport into the kitchen?" "Nah, you can walk places if you have to. You wouldn't be allowed to walk to my house, though. You'd just be here." She pours them each a glass and they sit at the table. "Although optimally," he continues, "the movie wouldn't be about you getting a glass of orange juice." "Well, optimally, no." She takes a sip. "But apparently, these things happen." He chuckles. "Apparently so." She looks at him for a long moment, studying his face. "You're actually disappointed that I didn't leap on you back there, aren't you? Deep down you were hoping that I'd drag you up to your bedroom for an afternoon of wild sex, right?" He smiles at her. "There's no good answer to that, is there?" "There's honest and dishonest." "Well, honestly, I'm a little more clued into reality than that. I actually would have been surprised if you acted any differently." "Yeah, but what if I had? What would you do? Would you trade in an intellectual companion for a mere sex toy?" "Well, if you were to offer yourself up as a sex toy, then your intellectual companionship would already have become basically null and void, wouldn't it? It's kind of a non-issue, really. Though I'm sure I'd manage either way." "This isn't to say that sex is anti-intellectual, though. There's a world of difference between having sex and being a slut." "I know it." She studies him again. "And now you're thinking that I must be laying some groundwork, so that we'd both understand where we're coming from if we were to have sex. You're thinking that, aren't you?" "That's what I like about you," he says, firing an imaginary gun and blowing out the smoke. "Intellectually sexy!" She rolls her eyes as she stands up. "Yeah, well anyway, I've gotta get going; I only stopped here on my way home from the mall." "What were you doing at the mall?" "Buying stuff." She bends over and kisses him on the forehead, saying, "Pleasant dreams," then walks out of the room. He hears his front door open and close, then goes to his window in his living room and watches her walk down the street, until she turns a corner and disappears from sight.