“This is going to be awful,” says Hedda, chewing her lip.
“She’s about to get off the plane and we’ll be sparring inside five minutes and I’ll lose, because I’m the protagonist–”
“Everybody thinks they’re the protagonist–”
“–And this scene has to illustrate our driving tension,” Hedda says. “And I hate it! I just want to see my mom.”
“So change the story.” Jens nods. “There’s a machine right over there.”
Hedda blinks. “Oh. Okay!”
So she walks over to the storybox, swipes her credit card and makes everything fine, which I just want to say is total bullshit.