It dawns upon her that he has become a bad emotional habit. Her call history is undeniable proof that she FaceTimes him whenever she doesn't want to talk to anyone, when she wants to forget about feeling low or anxious. While she regrets sharing too much every single time, she is still drawn to the absurdity of their relationship. "Let's go to Vegas," she suggests as a joke when he asks what he should do to celebrate his box office numbers. "I want to waste your dino money," she teases, making a silly face at him as she unsuccessfully tries to keep the misery from seeping into her voice. She thinks she's fooling him, or she wants to think she is. There are still 24 more hours left in this desert getaway, and she feels trapped with a stranger who only hours before had not been a stranger. She remembers she is hopelessly terrible at breakups and goodbyes. "I don't want to be here anymore," she confesses pitifully. "I get back tomorrow. Can we really go to Vegas?" The truth is: it isn't really just about his success - there's that too. She's immensely proud of him, though she doesn't say it. But it's also about how much she doesn't want to be in the desert, staring into the darkness while silence and intangible distance settle uncomfortably. "Sure," he agrees, "but you're not gonna try and marry me, right?" She laughs genuinely, glad she called after all.