Miles: Hey, Vlad?

Vlad: Yeah.

Miles: We need to talk.

Vlad: Ugh… what.

Miles: Look at what I'm holding. What does this look like to you?

Vlad: A pack of Gushers.

Miles: It was. (Squeezes one.) Now they're not gushing anything.

Vlad: That's weird.

Miles: Yeah. Did you suck the juice out of these?

Vlad: Absolutely not.

Miles: You sure? What's that stuff on your teeth, then?

Vlad: Blood, obviously.

Miles: Blood.

Vlad: Yup. Bit a kid earlier.

Miles: It's purple.

Vlad: He was… black?

Miles: Look, don't touch my food anymore, OK? The Gushers, the jelly doughnuts, the Twinkies… My mom sent those to me. I'm fine sharing, just… quit sucking the middles out of everything.

Vlad: Fine.

Miles: Oh – something else, too…

Vlad: Really? Kinda watching Lost Boys 2 here.

Miles: Yeah, for like the fourth time today.

Vlad: Third. Don't judge me.

Miles: Whatever. Pause it. I wanna talk about this sleeping situation. Why should you get the bottom bunk?

Vlad: Because I called it.

Miles: But you sleep hanging from the ceiling.

Vlad: Still.

Miles: You haven't even laid down on it once since we've been here.

Vlad: Doesn't matter. It's for when I have girls over. For sex.

Miles: Yeah you've said that. You always end up ripping out their throats before that happens though.

Vlad: I have an iron deficiency, you insensitive dick. Look, whatever, I'll switch beds with you eventually.

Miles: Will you really?

Vlad: Yeah. Ask me about it again in like 80 years or so, OK? Oh, wait – you'll be dead. Hah.

Miles: True. Hey, you mind if I open a window?

Vlad: Go for it, du—