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FLETCH<br />
Don't say shoot, okay.<br />
They pass the office of the city editor Frank Walker, fiftyish.<br />
Hold on Walker's office. Upon noticing <strong>Fletch</strong>, he jumps from his<br />
seat, edges his way past the two reporters in his office and runs<br />
outside.<br />
WALKER<br />
<strong>Fletch</strong>. <strong>Fletch</strong>!<br />
40-A FLETCH AND LARRY<br />
They continue their walk.<br />
FLETCH<br />
Did you hear something?<br />
LARRY<br />
Not me.<br />
FLETCH<br />
Me neither. See what we've got on a guy<br />
named Alan Stanwyk, okay? I need it right away.<br />
WALKER<br />
(running up to them)<br />
<strong>Fletch</strong>, I take it by your presence here that<br />
the story is done. Tell me I'm right.<br />
<strong>Fletch</strong> hold up a hand.<br />
FLETCH<br />
W-Y-K no 'c.' I'll be down in a minute.<br />
LARRY<br />
No problem, boss.<br />
Larry peels off and <strong>Fletch</strong> now talks to Walker without breaking<br />
stride for his office.<br />
WALKER<br />
<strong>Fletch</strong>.<br />
FLETCH<br />
Frank, you look a little peaked. Wanna vomit?<br />
WALKER<br />
No, I want an answer, Is the story done?<br />
FLETCH<br />
Uh, almost.
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