[Paris Hotel Ritz, L'Espadon restaurant. Curtains are parted. Evening clouds drifting over the Seine and candles on tables cast a pinkish glow over the white-jacketed waiters, tablecloths, and summer-formal diners. Morcheeba's"Over and Over" plays eerily on invisible speakers (I'm falling over and over and over and over again now/ Calling over and over and over and over again...). Figurski and Nguyen stand near the arch, then move towards table.]
Figurski: It's the night she dies!
Nguyen: [Tugs at formal kilt.] Who am I supposed to be?
Figurski: You're Prince Charles of course.
Nguyen: Right. And you are ...
Figurski: Dodi al-Fayed.
Nguyen: The boyfriend. On the Holodeck on acid, you can face death over and over again.
Figurski [affecting Anglo-Arab accent]: I say Charles, now don't you think —
Nguyen: You can stage your death and your loved ones, practice looking death in the eye or replay a previous scene when you —
Figurski [menacing]: You don't need the Holodeck for that.
Nguyen [studies Figurski's face]: From an Asian perspective, you know, Westerners have very ... prominent and funny noses. Kind of sharp and pointed and ... just damn large. Sometimes, bumpy too! [Feels own nose.] Now, our Prince Charles here, he has an especially —
Figurski: You're not going to be trying any tricks like at Findhorn here tonight, are you little buddy?