-Local Medical Facility; Las Vegas, Nevada

“Do you even know who I am?”

Eric Dane Jr. is disheveled, his brains still clearly scrambled.

“Do you know who my dad used to be?”

The kid probably thinks he’s still IN THE ZONE.

EDjr: “I stepped into that ring in a cascade of silver confetti, draped in the weight of a name that built this business, and I smashed Jacob Clark like he tried to rizz me out of my favorite Pokemon card. That should’ve been the end of the story.”

Spoiler: He is not. There is a bedpan, eggshell walls, and the kind of mint-green tile floor that reminds you of being piledriven in the 2nd grade.

Don’t ask.

EDjr: “Was it, though? Nah, it absolutely was not.”

“No cap, instead of collecting my ‘lope from the short line at the pay window, I gotta hope my Ca$hApp ain’t overdrawn again and try to figure out how direct deposit works while Mr. Ski Mask bro with can huff and puff his terrible breath at me while he tries to figure out a way to make his name off the leavin’s of my good name!”

The delusions are real, and happening in real time.

EDjr: “You think that makes you dangerous? You think it makes you slick? Nah. It makes you a nerd, dickhead.”

“Look here boomer, I don't know if you know this but I'm standing here under shining like the brightest star that I am, and you need to understand that eventually that Bell's gonna ring and you're gonna have to come at me from the front.”

“You know, like a grown ass dude, bro.”

Junior wears a Cheshire’s grin that he 100% came by honestly.

It is what it is.

“Whatever, bro. Keep sticking your big head in my business and I might take a shot at kicking it off.”

Shrug.

“Respectfully.”

Except for that not, fr fr.