A country road. Grass. A tree.

Vladimir sitting in the grass on the side of the road, wearing a single boot, looking forlornly at a boot in his hand.

Enter Miss Elizabeth Bennett

VLADIMIR: Nothing to be done.

MISS BENNETT: Surely, Mr. Putin, something can be done, if only you put your mind to it.

VLADIMIR: My mind, or my boot? I should put something to it.

MISS BENNETT: It is an exceedingly disreputable boot, sir, but we are on business that cannot be delayed; we have not an instant to lose. Pray put on your boot, sir.

VLADIMIR: The boot. It’s not the boot, it’s the bones. Everything here is bones or looks like bones.

MISS BENNETT: Still, should we not leave? Otherwise I fear we must be very late indeed.

VLADIMIR: We can’t leave. We can’t be late. We have to wait.

MISS BENNETT: You are certain, are you not, it was here?

VLADIMIR: Here?

MISS BENNETT: Where we were to wait.

VLADIMIR: He said to wait in the grass.

MISS BENNETT: My dear Mr. Putin, we are in the countryside. Grass is as common as needles. It would be astonishing not to be in the grass.

VLADIMIR: We should leave? Where would we go?

MISS BENNETT: Some place more agreeable.

VLADIMIR: Agreeable. Is there such a place?

MISS BENNETT: It will do you a world of good to consider the possibility.

VLADIMIR: What if he comes and we’re not here?

MISS BENNETT: You prefer, then, to wait.

VLADIMIR: We must wait. We can’t wait. Everything here is bones or looks like bones.

MISS BENNETT: Very well, we shall wait.

MISS BENNETT: Shhh. Did you hear that?

VLADIMIR: Hear what?

MISS BENNETT: That!

VLADIMIR: Is it him?

MISS BENNETT: Who?

VLADIMIR: You’ve forgotten. Already you’ve forgotten.

MISS BENNETT: In polite society, a good memory is unpardonable. Indeed, this is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.

VLADIMIR: I congratulate you.

MISS BENNETT: You are being ever so amiable. I did not think you capable of such congeniality.

(Vladimir shrugs.)

VLADIMIR: It’s not him.

(Miss Bennett looks around.)

MISS BENNETT: No. I fear it is not.

VLADIMIR: Bones. Nothing but bones and things that look like bones.

(Vladimir starts stand.)

VLADIMIR: We should go.

MISS BENNETT: You are the most contrary person. I begin to think you incapable of even the least flirtation with consistency.

VLADIMIR: We should go.

MISS BENNETT: Very well, if you feel so keenly about it. Let us go.

(Vladimir resumes sitting. Looks at the boot in his hand.)

VLADIMIR: Nothing to be done about it.

MISS BENNETT: Your boot?”

VLADIMIR: What about my boot?

MISS BENNETT: Your disreputable boot may go hang itself, for all I care, and cursed be its bones.

VLADIMIR: Bones and things that look like bones. We may as well stay.

MISS BENNETT: There is to be a ball in Meryton on Tuesday fortnight, and I am to have the first dance with…

VLADIMIR: A ball?

MISS BENNETT: A ball.

(Vladimir looks at the boot in his hand.)

VLADIMIR: A ball. There will be dancing.

MISS BENNETT: There is nothing quite in the world like dancing. I consider it the first refinement of polished society.

VLADIMIR: Will he be there, do you think?

MISS BENNETT: I should think so. Everyone will be there.

VLADIMIR: I won’t be there.

MISS BENNETT: You’ll still be waiting, then?

(Vladimir looks as if he’s about to cry.)

MISS BENNETT: Oh, do put on your boot. Or remove the other. How can you be so very silly?

VLADIMIR: How can it all be bones? And things that look like bones?

VLADIMIR: Does he take us for fools? Why do we wait? We are fools.

MISS BENNETT: I may flatter myself, but I think I am not so uncommonly foolish as my younger sisters.

VLADIMIR: We should go. There will be dancing.

MISS BENNETT: Although I dare say I have, in my way, been ever so headstrong and foolish.

VLADIMIR: We should go.

(Vladimir puts on his boot, stands.)

(Miss Bennett sits in the grass. Removes a buckled shoe.)

MISS BENNETT: Nothing to be done.

VLADIMIR: We should go.

MISS BENNETT: We should go. We must go. We can’t go.

VLADIMIR: Miss Bennett, it looks a hopeless business.

He moves away from Miss Bennett.

VLADIMIR: I sometimes wonder if we wouldn’t have been better off alone, each one for himself. We weren’t made for the same road.

MISS BENNETT: It looks very much like bones. Mr. Putin. Bones and things that look like bones.

VLADIMIR: We should go. There will be dancing.

(Vladimir sits.)