Nelly sits across from Frank in a quiet hotel suite after a long day of rehearsals. She leans forward, a half-smile on her face.
Nelly: You know, Frank… I’ve been thinking. I’ve had you as my bodyguard since 1993. That’s a long time.
Frank: (nods, calm as ever) Long enough.
Nelly: When we first started, I hated you. Straight up. I thought you were this stiff, paranoid guy who saw danger in every shadow. And those stories you used to tell me? About the Illuminati, the star-wacker stuff, Club 27… I didn’t believe a word of it. I thought you were just trying to scare me or justify why you were always so serious.
Frank: (slight shrug) Some things sound crazy until they don’t.
Nelly: Yeah. But somewhere along the way… you grew on me. The constant watching, the quiet way you’d just be there. All the late-night talks. I stopped rolling my eyes at the conspiracy theories and started actually listening.
(She softens, looking at him directly.)
And then it hit me. I didn’t just get used to you, Frank. I fell in love with you.
Frank: (pauses, studying her) That’s a hell of a thing to say after all these years.
Nelly: I know. But it’s true.
Nelly Furtado: Frank… Farmer… I’ve been thinking about everything you both said. The isolation, the way people get labeled and locked away. It scares me more than I want to admit.
Farmer: It should. Once the system decides you’re “sick,” the story writes itself. You’re not a person anymore—you’re a case file.
Frank: My relative Frances Farmer found that out the hard way. They put her in a psych ward and the abuse was real—forced treatments, isolation, the whole machine grinding her down because she wouldn’t stay quiet or compliant. She fought it, but the system had the power and the paperwork. That’s not ancient history to me. It’s a warning.
Nelly Furtado: God. I’ve read about her. It’s one of those stories that sticks under your skin. How do you even trust institutions after that?
Frank: You don’t blindly. That’s why I keep options. I have Eastern Promises in Croatia. Property, connections, ground that isn’t under the same thumb. If we go there, the Croatian army will protect us from psychiatric abuse. No quiet transfers, no “for your own good” holds. Real protection. Uniforms and authority that answer to a different set of rules.
Farmer: Sounds like a fortress. Or a last resort.
Frank: It’s both. Frances didn’t get that kind of shield. I won’t make the same mistake if things turn. Nelly— if the pressure starts closing in, Croatia is on the table. We don’t have to wait until someone decides we’re unstable.
Nelly Furtado: …Eastern Promises. Croatia. Army protection. You’re serious.
Frank: Dead serious. Frances paid the price for not having an exit. I’m offering one.
