The Hawaiian shirt glides between Greer's thumb and finger. A muddled sunset scene. Palm trees and hummingbirds in silhouette. The light cotton seems to drink the sweat from the shallow grooves in his fingerprint, but leaves behind a veneer of grease .
"Florida cloth," says Ken. "Keeps you fresh in the humidity."
The sun through the window is showing the shiny patches of red skin on his face where the burns failed to heal properly.
"Even the Supreme Court doesn't want to tangle with you," says Ken.
The barred shadow of the bird cage door falls ominously across some legal documents he has spread out across the coffee table. The talking owl with the voice of Morgan Freeman landed work miming for the man himself on the daily, and has departed for Los Angles. Freeman hasn't used his mouth for anything other than eating and drinking since before COVID. He writes down what he wants to say first thing in the morning, then the owl says it for him.
"Check the classifieds for the nearest airboat dealer," says Greer.
Standing at the sink in the kitchenette, he says: "I'm thinking of keeping my hair short on top but growing it long at the back. Is there a name for that?"
Ken is using a Kennedy half-dollar and a bookmakers pencil to mark out the pre-emptive restraining orders on a map of the Sunshine State. An old divorce lawyers trick.
"This road is good for getting in and out of state. You'll need to stay in the centre lane the whole time otherwise you'll be in breach."