Ozzy's house, still half-wrecked, still occupied. TONY, RICKY, and the SUITORS have a strip-poker game going on the good rug — down to socks and bravado, cards and cheap beer. PENNY sits apart in a pool of lamplight with knitting needles and a growing length of something soft, working steadily. Through the window behind her: the porch light, flickering — she relit it this morning after it went dark last night, and it hasn't held steady since.
TONY (fanning cards, not looking up) — C'mon, Penny. Ante up. You're the only one still dressed and it's rude.
PENNY (sweet, needles clicking) — Soon as I finish this, Tony. Can't leave a homecoming gift half-done. Bad luck. (smiles) You wouldn't want bad luck on the game.
RICKY — She's been knittin' that thing for weeks, man.
PENNY (sweeter) — Good things take time.
They turn back to the cards. And the second they do — her hand finds a thread and pulls. A whole row hisses out. The gift shrinks. Nobody sees. The number begins.