On one side of the split-screen, STALLONE tosses and turns in bed, angrily muttering at the HIPSTER on the other side of the invisible cut line, who orders artisanal food at an expensive restaurant.
HIPSTER: Yes, the quail eggs. Easy on the tarragon—
STALLONE (interrupting): Tarragon?! Who is this guy?
Hipster grimaces at Stallone’s comment, continues ordering…
HIPSTER: And finish it off with the mammee apple creme brûlée.
Stallone tosses and turns. Squashes a pillow over his ears.
WAITER (O.S.): And to drink, sir?
Stallone jolts up. This is his chance. His chance to right Hipster’s wrongs. He REACHES THROUGH the invisible cut line and grabs Hipster by the collar.
STALLONE: One word.
Hipster swallows hard. Looks to camera. SLAM TO Hipster with an ice-cold, exaggeratedly large TECATE can towering over his decadent feast.
STALLONE (V.O.): Tecate. Somos Bax.