It had been a fun night, a wild night, veering on rowdy at times but just before collapsing disastrously into actual nastiness, the mood swung from profanity into profundity. And then back again, when more drinks were brought into the table. But it was morning now, or noon, or something. It was bright, and the guys were groaning, waking up on sofas and beds and Villeneuve was crawling up from under the table (it was a nice suite with near-illegally soft luxury carpets of finest alpaca, so his sleep had actually been quite pleasant).

Scot lifted the room service phone. He needed a drink of orange juice, badly.
"They are ready in five minutes", a pleasant voice said.
"Ehh, what?", Scott mumbled. He did not remember ordering anything. But that did not mean it had not happened. The night was quite hazy at points.
"The pizzas. Oh, it's our standard procedure in case our esteemed visitors experience self-induced imbalance. Be assured our pizzas are of the highest quality and tailored to our visitors' needs."
"Pizzas…", he parroted helplessly. Last night he has given an inspired speech on the equal moral value of all conscious life and the existential loneliness of our times, but today sticking two syllables  together felt like a struggle.

It was maybe the word or then it was the unmistakable smell of crispy, greasy, salty goodness coming their way on the hotel hallway, that woke up the rest of them. Room service arrived, and courteously arranged steaming pizzas, ample coffee, fresh-pressed juices and a bowl of aspirin within easy reach. The guys did not even notice how and when the staff disappeared, ninja-like.

What appeared to be a tastefully papered wall was actually a tv screen. It sprung to life, accompanied by a satisfyingly deep surround sound.
"I could use some brain pizza too", Villeneuve said, clicking through thousands of movies. Just a few bites of the piping hot pizza had revived his spirits and his body. It was a really excellent vegetarian pizza, which was to be expected from a place like this. What was puzzling was how did the hotel chefs know he wanted slimy canned champignons when he was hungover, even if all other times he found them disgusting.
"Shut up, I have the remote", he grinned, when Badik gave an exaggerated sigh. "Paul never disappoints, if you approach his movies with the right frame of mind. There's spirit in everything he does, people just can't handle it, that's what happened with Soldier."
Badik shrugged. It was best not to get Villeneuve worked up on Soldier.
"Besides, there is something deeply suspicious about a person who does not like Resident Evil", Villeneuve said with an air of finality.
Badik gave up. Partying with Villeneuve nearly always resulted in a next-day brainless action movie binge. A least this was called "The Final Chapter", so next time it might be some other franchise.


Pizza remains were stale, coffee grown cold.
"Woo-hoo! What a great twist!", Villeneuve yelled at the end credits. The others nodded, slightly less exuberant. Green and Fancher had never even seen any of the Resident Evil movies, so to them it had been just another explosion rollercoaster.
"… that was not at all bad. Like, it was pretty deep. In a way. Underneath all that fast-paced stuff. Took me by surprise, I have to admit. And the trinity of bitches was great!"
"Yeah, you know I've been thinking about all those themes recently. Clones and identity and memories and stuff. Who is real and so on. And then Anderson has already gone and made a film about that. Weird, huh?"
"But he did not take it at all seriously! You can't do justice on those deep thoughts if… if it's on fast forward speed all the time and a boobsy fashion model as the lead!"
"Well, what's hindering you from watching it in slow motion", Green said. He had not enjoyed the movie very much.
"Or remaking it in slow-motion", added Fancher. "Though then it would be nearly three hours. I'm not sure I could take that."
"Three hours is not at all too long if you want to tackle identity and capitalism and memories", Villeneuve shot back.
"You should totally make a sequel to Resident Evil 6", Badik tittered. Then a contemplative look fell over him. "Take it to the next level. And you could skip Jovovich, put some serious actor here instead."
"Then you'd miss the bitch trinity!"
"Well, have a trinity of father, son and the holy ghost instead of maid, mother and crone."
"Mother? That Alice character was not really the motherly type. If she had a baby, she would probably just hand it over to someone and drive on her motorcycle towards the sunset. Come to think of it, why would the cloners bother giving uteruses to clones which are not even supposed to breed."
"That's nitpicking, and sequels are always terrible, and you literally can't make a sequel to the sixth installment in a movie series, and this discussion is getting absurd", Villeneuve protested, suddenly serious. He was beginning to feel concerned about Scott. Scott seemed absent-minded and sunk within himself, like he was looking inwards to another place and time.
They fell silent. Scott chewed slowly on the last bite of pizza. Swallowed it. The he sprang up so forcefully Badik yelped and Green dropped his coffee cup in surprise.

"Guys, hey guys, I know we are not supposed to talk shop on a day like this, but hey. I have an idea. Just hear me out and let me know what you think…"