I’m mentally kicking myself when finally:
Marnie
Friday at 7. Don’t be late.
Yes ma’am.
Marnie
I’m not a ma’am. I’m like one year older than you.
How do you know how old I am?
Marnie
Your medical files. I know everything. Height, weight, blood type.
She’s definitely flirting now. Has to be.
So you’re admitting you’ve been studying my file.
Marnie
I study all my patients’ files.
Which means you know you’re robbing the cradle. Thirty-one preying on poor innocent twenty-nine year old me.
Marnie
Two years isn’t cradle robbing.
Depends on the context.
There’s a long pause.
Marnie
What context would that be?
The context where you keep touching me professionally while looking unprofessional.
Marnie
I always look professional.
Your hair was in a messy bun this morning. You had ink on your cheek.
‘Professional’ is questionable.
Marnie
Your tattoos are questionable.
My tattoos are art.
Marnie
Your thigh tattoo is constellation coordinates. I googled it.
