New York City, NY
"...-bany!"
Buckley boards the train.
"Sorry, excuse-"
"Never mind."
He shrugs, continues to his car. Sitting by the window, he checks the ticket in his coat pocket. He pulls a notepad out of his case.
Yes, he-"
Gore Vidal stares in shock.
"Wha-"
After a moment of horrendous silence, the new arrival nods, somewhat, and sits down opposite the Review editor.
"We're both here."
"I have also deduced that fact. Dear God..."
"You know, you do scare me at times... of course, that so-called 'smile' you produce could scare any man with a reasonable vision."
"How goes the degradation of our political process?"
"I didn't know you ask yourselves questions out loud... can you not hear your voice inside anymore?"
The conductor stops by. They hand him their tickets, respectively.
"Well, Gore, you don't need to be careful about falling out the ramp... a skull that thick, it could withstand an atomic explosion."
"It's only a few hours until Albany."
"Yeah... we should do this more."