“Why are we going this way?”

“Because I’m parked in the far lot.”

“We’re rock stars. We shouldn’t have to park in the far lot.”

“Well—no…I’m not even going to say it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll say, ‘Why didn’t you park there?’”

“Say it anyway.”

“I’m parked out in the far lot because the only spaces available by the studio were the handicapped ones.”

“…So why didn’t you park there?”

“Because I’m not handicapped, Cha.”

“I’m forty-five years old. Couldn’t I count as handicapped?”

Gackt laughed and shook his head, looking sidelong at his co-producer. “Cha. You may be forty-five, but you do yoga every single day. I don’t think you count as handicapped.”

“We could say I have short-term memory loss and that they only way I wouldn’t lose my car would be to park it in the handicapped zone.”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d look at it but not think it’s yours because you’d think ‘Why the hell would I park in the handicapped zone if I’m not handicapped?’”