Eyes.

Leviticus

Standing on top of a steep hill.

Leviticus: ‘Do you come here often, miss?’

Magdalene: ‘No.’

Leviticus: ‘Quite the sight, isn’t it?’

Magdalene: ‘I couldn’t care less. I do it for the fitness.’

Leviticus: ‘And a good job you do at that, I must say. But still, a shame you’d deny yourself the pleasure of the sight.’

Magdalene: ‘Are you hitting on me?’

Leviticus: ‘I am merely proclaiming that I enjoy the view from up here.’

Magdalene: ‘Proclaim in silence then. I care none for your words.’

Leviticus: ‘Do you treat all strangers with the same disrespect?’

Magdalene: ‘Do you?’

Leviticus: ‘Excuse me?’

Magdalene: ‘You suppose I sweat buckets running up this hill to listen to some intellectual’s revelations about the beauty of nature?’

Leviticus: ‘No, I reckon you do it for the superficiality.’

Magdalene: ‘And you? You do this for the inner authenticity?’

Leviticus: ‘Perhaps there is no sense talking to you.’

Magdalene: ‘I’ve been hinting at that from the moment you opened your mouth.’

Leviticus: ‘Yet I cannot let this slide. Do you wish to be admired but not approached?’

Magdalene: ‘Neither by the likes of you.’

Leviticus: ‘Ah, but what is it then? What of my approach is unsatisfactory?’

Magdalene: ‘I’m here to sweat buckets, not to be lectured about the purposelessness of vanity.’

Leviticus: ‘I wouldn’t agree that vanity is without purpose.’

Magdalene: ‘Stop trying to rope me deeper into your advances.’

Leviticus: ‘But it is you who keep responding to me, hinting that perhaps you do wish for your admirers to sweat buckets in order to get through to you.’

Magdalene: ‘Playing hard to get, as you’d say, were you not pretentious with your words.’

Leviticus: ‘Indeed.’

Magdalene: ‘I can assure you that’s not happening. I ran up this hill, I’ll rest here and run back down. I have no desire to be approached by potential contenders for my womb.’

Leviticus: ‘Is that what you think this is? Attempts of physical satisfaction?’

Magdalene: ‘Leave me alone.’

Leviticus: ‘Very well.’

Magdalene runs down the hill.

Leviticus: ‘What a cunt.’

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