EXT. EL PASO INT'L AIPORT - SHORT TERM PARKING LOT - DAY
Hunter, sunglasses on, and CHLOE, 17 - running shoes and Lycra tights that complement her forest-green long-sleeve tee with GO SLO in yellow across the front, sunglasses - walk through the lot, their gaze aimed similarly at the ground. Chloe's pink backpack slung over a shoulder, Hunter pulls a camouflage suitcase on wheels.
HUNTER: Are you upset that I presumed you'd be okay with this?
CHLOE (beat): No. I totally trust you. I mean, you left your house to a complete stranger.
HUNTER: I have his license plate.
CHLOE: What state?
HUNTER: Wyoming, where he lives. He's on his way to Texas. That's all I know.
CHLOE: What's he driving?
HUNTER: Guess.
CHLOE (beat) Pickup truck.
HUNTER: Late eighties F one-fifty.
CHLOE: Cowboy boots?
HUNTER: And hat. Pearl snap button shirt and silver belt buckle featuring a turquoise horseshoe.
CHLOE: No spurs?
HUNTER: No spurs.
Hunter aims key and CHIRPS THE ROVER, flashing its lights.
CHLOE: And I was nervous about meeting Jackie.
HUNTER: Well Jackie's nervous about meeting you.
Hunter opens the hatch, stows the roller-bag, Chloe adds her backpack. Hunter closes the hatch, Chloe into the front passenger seat, Hunter in the driver's.
CHLOE: Horse day still on?
HUNTER: Still on. She'll be by around ten.
CHLOE: You seem utterly unfazed, dad.
HUNTER: I'm stupefied, sweetheart. Buckle up.
They buckle up, Hunter starts engine, backs out of frame.
