(staring blankly at window)
What? Oh. It’s – it’s probably nobody. This is New York, right? Doesn’t everybody look like somebody?
Bradshaw reaches into her purse for a pack of Marlboro Lights. She takes out a cigarette and smells it.
You can’t smoke in here.
(sighs, puts unlit cigarette in her mouth)
I’m thinking about Paris. Carrie, honey. You need some girlfriend time. We’re taking you on your next assignment — to Saks. And we’re going to do something with that hair.
(puts cigarette on table, picks up iPhone, starts texting)
Women come to New York for the two L’s: Labels and Love.
Bradshaw looks up at Mathison, then down to the phone, still texting. Mathison runs her fingers through her hair.
Stella McCartney might liven things up. And some Louboutins. Everyone needs Louboutins.
Fashion? I don’t know.
Sweetie, in every woman’s life, there comes a time when you have to take it up a notch. It matters.
It doesn’t matter. I – I don’t know.
Carrie, honey. You’ve got a whole new season to look forward to. Adventures. Possibility. New men! We’re just stuck in eternal syndication.
As Bradshaw is talking, Nazir walks into the restaurant, looks around. Mathison sees him. SAMANTHA (50), CHARLOTTE (40s) and MIRANDA (40s) walk in behind Nazir.
Jesus Christ! It’s him.
Our lord and savior? Where?