Painted with orange light, Finn and Rachel lean on the A-deck rail aft, shoulder to shoulder. The ship's lights come on. It is a magical moment... perfect. ( their in a middle of talking about something) Rachel: So then what, Finn Finn:Well, then logging got to be too much like work, so I went down to Los Angelas to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place, they even have a rollercoaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece. Rachel:A whole ten cents?! Finn: not getting it)Yeah; it was great money... I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. But only in summer. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing. Rachel: looking at the dusk sky) Why can't I be like you Finn? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it (turning to him) Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it. Finn: Alright, we're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up ! and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf... but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that side-saddle stuff. Rachel: You mean one leg on each side? Scandalous! Can you show me? Finn: Sure. If you like. Rachel: smiling at him) I think I would. (she looks at the horizon) And teach me to spit too. Like a man. Why should only men be able to spit. It's unfair. Finn: They didn't teach you that in finishing school? Here, it's easy. Watch closely. (He spits. It arcs out over the water.) Your
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