Stanley is making the best fucking plane ever. It has curved wings and a weighted nose, and even a little rudder thing at the back. Now he’s drawing on the wings with a pen, huge gouts of black flame and an eagle –
The lawyer says, “Mister Bingham, did you recently have an argument with your wife, in which you threatened that you would, quote, ‘kill her gold-digging ass’?”
Bingham goes, “I don’t understand the question.”
Stanley slides the plane onto his lap and keeps drawing. He’s not really paying attention. Everyone in the room knows Bingham’s guilty. Even the eagle.