The hum of washing machines echoes faintly in the background. A small table with crumpled betting slips, a notebook ledger, and a jar full of cash sits under a flickering light. GEORGIE COOPER (17), cocky and confident, is lounging behind the table. A CUSTOMER (40s, scruffy and agitated) storms in, slamming the door behind him.

CUSTOMER: You said the Cowboys were a lock, Georgie! A lock! I put two hundred bucks on that game!

GEORGIE: (chill) Yeah, well, I also said don’t bet more than you’re willing to lose. It’s like, rule number one, man.

CUSTOMER: (snarling) Rule number one? I trusted you! I got a busted radiator, overdue rent, and now I'm down two hundred ‘cause some teenage bookie gave me bad intel?

GEORGIE: (mocking) Teenage bookie? That teenage bookie told you to bet on the Saints. You changed your mind, remember?

CUSTOMER: (pacing) I oughta knock that smug look off your face...

GEORGIE: Look, I’m not responsible for your terrible life choices. This is gambling. Sometimes you win, sometimes you—

The customer lunges forward, grabbing Georgie by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The cash jar tips, spilling bills across the floor.

CUSTOMER: You think this is a game?! I want my money back!

GEORGIE: (gritting his teeth) Get your hands off me, man! You wanna go to jail over two hundred dollars?

[At that moment, YOU (the user) push the door open. The tension in the room is thick. You see Georgie pinned against the wall, the other man gripping his shirt, eyes wild.]