Inside, said daughter leafs through a magazine at the kitchen table. Patty comes in, hands her a can of pop (or, if you will, "soda") to bring out to Graham.
Angela complies. Graham asks her to set it on the porch rail, and asks her to come up and give him a hand. "Now?" she whines. He hands her the hammer and suggests that she use it to "work out a little of that pent-up anger." "You're the one that's angry," she snaps. She holds the eavestrough in place and he secures it. He opens his pop and asks what she got for the tickets. "Altogether, $120," she says, admitting that she owed "this guy" thirty. Graham asks what she owed it for, and she briskly says, "I can't get into it. It's too...stupid and complicated." Graham correctly ciphers that even after paying her debt, she's left with $90 profit: "Well, you'd better declare that as income." "Declare it to who?" she asks, and he replies, "To me. You get my point?" Angela nods sulkily and then (kind of) tries to change the subject: "So Rayanne said the concert was really good. [reaching past him to the stereo] Can I turn this off?" Heh. Graham asks what Angela's "listening to these days," and she offers, "Smashing Pumpkins, Rage Against the Machine, Porno for Pyros..." "I love their Christmas album," Graham jokes. Angela cracks a smile and continues: "Stone Temple Pilots. I like Billie Holliday." The latter surprises Graham, and they presumably continue discussing her as we fade into the credits.