DRAKE showing us the KEY, on its cord.
1. DRAKE: We’ll be coming with you.
SABRE laughs, DRAKE holding the KEY for her to see, as before.
2. SABRE: Oh! Shall you?
3. SABRE: Just as that, then?
SABRE closer to DRAKE, leaning towards him, her hard edge beginning to glint. DRAKE is stoic.
4. SABRE: Have you taken to open Aether before, Marshal?
5. SABRE: Heard the banshee screams in the night?
6. SABRE: Felt the crystal air burn your lungs with every breath?
Closer on SABRE and DRAKE. She’s daring him – she knows what she speaks of, and she doesn’t think he has the first idea of what they’re in for.
DRAKE listening. Emotionless. If he’s impressed or intimidated, he doesn’t show it at all.
7. SABRE: There’s madness and malevolence in the Sphere’s dark places, Miles Drake.
8. SABRE: And I’ve not room on this ship for a hand who’ll fail in its face.
9. SABRE: Take what I offer, sir…
SABRE and DRAKE, closer than ever. She’s almost hissing at him.
1. SABRE: …leave the key and depart, and content your honor at that.
2. DRAKE: No.
Stet, but SABRE is already turning away, grinning, having whipped the KEY on its CORD out of DRAKE’S HAND.
DRAKE is surprised, more by the mercurial nature than the action.
3. SABRE: Oh, fine, then.