Christopher, running upstairs to the reception desk of the SoHo Grand Hotel. He tries to ring Jon's room, using the alias "Jerry from Newark." I love Christopher's unsolvable aliases. However, Jon has requested not to be disturbed. Christopher's annoyed, so he has them try Amy's room. The vixen is apparently available, for she opens her door as she fastens her bathrobe. How subtle. She's way too excited to see him. He explains that he was supposed to meet with Jon to talk about the script. Amy says that shooting went very late, and they didn't wrap until 5:30 AM. Christopher offers her Jersey's best sangweech; he brought it for Jon. She declines because she has brushed her teeth. What, you don't eat for the rest of the day because you brushed your teeth? That's like never making your bed because you're just going to mess it up that night again, but weirder. She is so lame, she's, like, 3-D lame. She offers him coffee, he says no thanks, I have some business to attend to, but he sits down anyway, and she runs around in her robe, tidying up. Christopher blurts out, "This sort of thing is unacceptable where I come from." I'm assuming he means spilling your Mafia secrets to strangers who have everything to gain by capitalizing on that information, but he may be talking about her bathrobe, or perhaps her refusal to eat the sandwich. The latter is unacceptable to Miss Parker. "Do you know if he read my script yet?" Christopher asks. Amy says that she has his script. "Jon asked me to give it an official read. Don't take it personally. Billy Bob had something he wanted to do with Jon, and Jon had me read it first." I'm just going to let that one lie, because my response has too many expletives in it. The phone rings as Christopher sits there looking miffed. Amy answers, "Hey honey, your cousin's here. Okay I will -- Gregory says go fuck yourself." Christopher silently chuckles "go figure." She says she'll meet Greg at Union Square Café, and I say to myself, blech -- they're such millennial yuppies.