But if it’s tomorrow—I’m all in. But if it’s one of those where everyone winds up broke or dead, or in a shootout or in jail, or fighting for the master’s bed in a Netflix miniseries that runs two seasons too long—I’m out. But if it’s not one of those, come by in the morning, but not before 10. But if it’s a cliquey one with your friends from the Dead Poets fan club or a druggy one with the Crown and Pony gang—I’ll pass. But if it’s just the two of us—I’m so in.