(CRANE walks down the hallway to his office; jingle of keys, unlocks the door)

CRANE: I told you you’re not supposed to be here anymore.

LUCENZO: …

CRANE: Lucenzo, you need to leave.

LUCENZO: I adore the smell of books, dottore. The old paper, the leather covers… it’s the smell of enlightenment. The smell of, how to say… conoscenza.

CRANE: I’ve heard enough. I’m calling security.

(CRANE picks up the receiver, but LUCENZO slams it back down)

CRANE: Let go of my hand, Lucenzo.

LUCENZO: I need to see.

CRANE: See what?

LUCENZO: You.

CRANE: You’re looking right at me.

LUCENZO: (laughs) No, dottore. I need to see who you really are.

CRANE: I don’t – Jesus! (is slammed against the wall; LUCENZO grabs his throat) Hnnngh…

(IKKY cawing)

LUCENZO: Fammi vedere, dottore. Fammi vedere che hai paura!

(CRANE starts to laugh)

CRANE: (SCARECROW) You just don’t get it, do ya, son? You think you can scare the scarecrow? I don’t bow to fear, fear bows to ME. Now put me down before I do something you’re gonna regret.

(CRANE is dropped and begins to wheeze; IKKY cawing)

LUCENZO: Allora è vero…

CRANE: You shouldn’t… do things like that… Lucenzo.

LUCENZO: I had to see, dottore. To make sure you were ready.

CRANE: Ready for what?

LUCENZO: To see what I have done, and to help me with my perfections.

CRANE: What makes you think I would help you?

LUCENZO: You are a man of medicine, dottore. Of science. At the very least, your curiousity will need to be sated.

CRANE: …

LUCENZO: I will leave my notes with you, dottore, and bid you a good ni-

(door opens)

BOLTON: What’s with all the fuckin’ noise in here? I thought nerds were supposed to be quiet.

CRANE: Get out of here, Lyle. This is a private session.

BOLTON: The hell it is – no one was signed in for today. And what’s with the fucking mess in here? And who the fuck are you?

LUCENZO: I am –

CRANE: Lucenzo, you don’t have to answer to him.

BOLTON: Lucenzo, huh? Yeah, you looked like a fuckin’ dago to me. So you two sharin’ some spaghetti in here or somethin’? Little fox and the hound goin’ on?

CRANE: Bolton. Don’t push your luck.

BOLTON: Or what? You gonna sic the guinea on me? I ain’t scared of him.

CRANE: You oughtta be.

BOLTON: Oh yeah? What’s he gonna do, huh? Hey – I’m talkin’ to you, Guido. Whatchu gonna do?

LUCENZO: …

BOLTON: Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re in Luthor’s America now, and if you don’t play ball, he’ll send you right back to your mafiosos and olive trees.

CRANE: Leave, Bolton.

BOLTON: You keep the fuckin’ noise down. It’s a looney bin, not a goddamn hoedown. Later hayseed, later spaghetti.

LUCENZO: Very rude.

CRANE: Eh, it’s gonna bit him in the ass one day.

LUCENZO: Si, it will. I will take my leave, dottore.

CRANE: Lucenzo.

LUCENZO: Read the book. When you are ready, you come to the farm.

(door closes)

(CRANE exhales, opens a drawer and pulls out a pill bottle; he takes some pills)

CRANE: Fuck.