Green parts of the script are done (so delineated because I don't delineate pages or panels in my scripts and I want to show you the progress somehow).
Page assignments and progress:
Cover - Unassigned
Page 1-? - Unassigned
The Broken #8: Developing a Sense of Self Part 2: Meddling, Chapter 3: Dinner with Family
By Ave Messer
MRS. CROCHE: Red hair, amicable look, kind of plump figure
DRAGRANT: Link to bio. He is in normal human mode
PROTEAN: Link to bio. He doesn't have his costume yet
(Open to MRS. CROCHE approaching DRAGRANT's house. She knocks on the door. DRAGRANT answers, with PROTEAN standing in anticipation in the background)
DRAGRANT: Hi, Mom.
MRS. CROCHE: Boys. (Hugs DRAGRANT. Steps back and looks at the two) You're looking well.
PROTEAN: (Hugs MRS. CROCHE) Same to you.
MRS. CROCHE: (Breaking from the hug and still smiling) Want dinner? I'll cook.
(Cut to them all sitting around a small table, eating spaghetti)
PROTEAN: Why'd you come all the way from Redding?
MRS. CROCHE: I wanted to see my boys. You two being so far away, I need to check up on you from time to time.
DRAGRANT: (Mouth full of food) And the pasta's amazing.
PROTEAN: Thanks for cooking dinner, Mom. (Nudges DRAGRANT under the table)
DRAGRANT: (Swallows) Yeah, thanks from me, too.
MRS. CROCHE: (Leans over to DRAGRANT. Quietly) You gonna tell him?
PROTEAN: (Looking at them suspiciously) Tell me what?
DRAGRANT: (Slurping down more noodles) I was able to get Sean to pull some strings, and he was able to find somebody to set you up with.
PROTEAN: I really don't need your help. I can meet people on my own.
DRAGRANT: (Pointing his fork at PROTEAN) From what I hear, you only hang out with that red-headed Arab weirdo. After all this time, you only know one person.
MRS. CROCHE: What he's trying to say is that it doesn't hurt to give somebody a little push.
PROTEAN: (Puts his head in his hands) It isn't Ngedi, is it?
DRAGRANT: (Shoveling more food in his mouth) Naw, she wouldn't date you. This girl's closer to your age. I don't even know if Sean knows her, just found out that she likes you.
PROTEAN: (Smiling, but grumbling mentally) Thank you. I really appreciate it.
MRS. CROCHE: Oh, I have something for you. (Sets her purse in her lap and rummages through it. Pulls out two slips of paper and hands them to PROTEAN) I missed your birthday before.
PROTEAN: (Taking the slips and looking at them) Vecini's? Isn't that the place Grant went to for his costume?
MRS. CROCHE: (Holding up two fingers) Good for two. Take your date. (Sees PROTEAN looking at her tentatively) Or your friend. If it doesn't work out.
DRAGRANT: He does great work. Just look what he did for me.
PROTEAN: Grant, all you wear are armored shoulder pads. It's a little creepy.
DRAGRANT: But he designed them for me specifically. Besides, I can hide my junk inside me. And the crack-that's for the ladies.
PROTEAN: (Imagines DRAGRANT flying, showing his butt to the world. Shudders) He'd better cover me up more.
DRAGRANT: (Eating again) He will.
MRS. CROCHE: (To PROTEAN) Your costume will be great, honey. (Turns to DRAGRANT and puts her hand on his shoulder) Put some shorts on when you fight crime, dear. (Kisses him on the cheek and stands up) Anybody want more food?
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