SIDNEY CROSBY and EVGENI MALKIN are sitting on a balcony at sunset overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. They each hold an unidentifiable, fancy umbrella drink, and are wearing their most comfortable pajamas. Palm tress sway in the distance.
They can do this, you know. Without us.
I mean. I know they can, it’s my team, it’s your team. We know.
That’s right, Gene.
SIDNEY CROSBY takes a deep breath, and looks out to the ocean. EVGENI MALKIN says a long string of sentences in Russian. This goes on for several minutes, while CROSBY twirls the umbrella in his drink.
Couldn’t have said it better myself. That is, incidentally, my favorite sequence in Paradise Lost.
The sun dips below the horizon.
MARC-ANDRE FLEURY is standing in a darkened room that feels as though it is miles beneath the surface of the earth. He has his harpoon. As he begins to pace, he smiles, broadly, without restraint. The sound of roaring is heard–voices, heartbeats.
(Fade to black)