EXT. CABIN FEVER RESTAURANT – LATE AFTERNOON
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The trio slows as they approach a worn wooden door, its non-electric sign creaking slightly above—
"CABIN FEVER", hand-painted in chipped white letters.
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K (snorting)
"Cabin Fever. Very inviting. Like they’re advertising diseases now."
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JASON (grinning)
"Better than it looks. Trust me. Plus, no one’s died here. Recently."
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A (brightly)
"That's a comforting statistic!"
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Jason pushes the door open, letting the smell of grilled food and old wood waft over them.
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INT. CABIN FEVER RESTAURANT – CONTINUOUS
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Warm yellow lights spill over dark wooden booths and creaky floors.
The place has the vibe of a mansion someone gave up halfway through building, but in a cozy way.
The few customers inside barely glance up before returning to their steaming plates.
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Jason leads them to a booth tucked in the back corner, naturally shadowed but close to an emergency exit—old habits die hard.
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They slip into the booth: Jason on one side, K and A crammed onto the other, K already surveying every escape route.
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Before Jason can even finish scanning the handwritten menu, a figure emerges from the kitchen—
VINCENT, the heavyset owner with a permanent tired smile, wipes his hands on his apron and lumbers over.
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VINCENT (gruffly, but warmly)
"Well, I'll be damned. Jason Gearman, in the flesh. And with company this time, huh?"
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Jason flashes an easy, guilty grin.
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JASON
"Yeah, figured I'd stop being a sad loner... Y'know. Start a robot band or something."
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Vincent chuckles, looking over at A and K with a raised brow.
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VINCENT
"Friends of yours? Thought you only brought that grumpy repair guy around."
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JASON (waving vaguely)
"Yeah, uh, new coworkers. From... a different department. Very exclusive."
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K offers a stiff nod. A beams way too brightly, causing Vincent to blink once, slowly.
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VINCENT (playing along)
"Uh-huh. Well, any friend of Jason’s is tolerated here. You want the usual?"
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JASON
"Yeah, and these two... uh, menu’s open for 'em. They’re celebrating."
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Vincent scribbles something down and disappears with a grunt.
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The three settle back. Jason leans his elbow on the table, giving A and K a look.
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JASON (mock whispering)
"Okay, act normal. No stabbing, no staring contests, no threatening the food."
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K (sarcastic)
"Define normal."
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A (cheerful)
"I want something sweet and something crunchy!"
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Jason laughs under his breath, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders for the first time in days.
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Outside the restaurant, the city churns on, but in this little pocket of battered booths and mismatched silverware—
for now, it’s just them.
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FADE OUT.
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