JANEY looks up as DUNBAR comes in, strips off his
shirt.
DUNBAR
Can you iron this for me Janey?
JANEY
Iron your own bloody shirt.
DUNBAR
Come on Janey, I can't use a fucking
iron, it's something hormonal.
JANEY
There's a clean one behind the
door.
DUNBAR digs out a rusting
tin of deodorant from the kitchen. Sprays it into
his armpits.
DUNBAR
Our new client is taking me to dinner
tonight. Going to put a lot of business in our direction.
GULLIVER with calculator
works on SHEILA'S debts.
GULLIVER
Who is he?
DUNBAR
He's got several business interests,
mainly haulage.
GULLIVER
So why does he need us?
DUNBAR
Let's face it, he's probably hauling
gear.
GULLIVER
So he's a criminal?
DUNBAR
We're a criminal law firm. What do
you think we do? Defend fucking criminals. At least
this one doesn't wear burberry, or puke over you,
or nick your laptop. He's civil. You can have a
conversation with him.
GULLIVER
I didn't think we were that kind
of firm.
DUNBAR
Oh, didn't you?
GULLIVER
If we're bankrolled by a single client,
a criminal; then he effectively owns us.
DUNBAR
I don't care who bankrolls me. If
it folds, I'll have it.
