Several days later. Early evening.

As the lights fade up the office looks much as it always has apart from several empty McDonald's and KFC boxes lying around. Jonas's blanket lies crumpled on the car seat, suggesting that DWAYNE has been sleeping as well as eating here.

The music continues as DWAYNE appears in the alcove, freshly showered and groomed. He wears his ‘special occasion smart shirt’ and clean trousers. He adjusts the animal skin bracelet on his wrist and then spots his gun on his desk. Checking that the firearm is on safety he opens a top drawer and places it carefully inside and the music fades out. Noticing the takeaway boxes, he scoops them up, tossing them into the workshop before crossing to the mirror above the basin to check his appearance.

The sound of a car we have heard before sends DWAYNE into a mini panic. He grabs his brandy bottle and glass from the coffee table and places them beside the fridge. Moving swiftly to his desk, he removes a can of antiperspirant from a drawer, blasting under each arm before putting it back. He whips up a remote device and activates the lock to the outside security gate. NAMHLA soon appears in the doorway, stylishly dressed.

NAMHLA [ultra-cool]: How's your wife? I trust she's well?

DWAYNE [flustered]: Ja, no … she's … she's lekker, she's …

NAMHLA: Not in tonight?

DWAYNE: Gone to a movie with her friend in town. [A trifle too smarmy.] Smart move, don't you think?

NAMHLA: Depends.

DWAYNE [momentarily thrown]: Sorry?

NAMHLA: I said it depends.

DWAYNE: On what?

NAMHLA: On what you have in mind.

Beat.

DWAYNE [warily]: We discussing the debt you want me to collect.

NAMHLA: You're sure about that?