INT. GOLD-AND-MARBLE BOARDROOM – NIGHT
Donald Trump stands at the window, looking down at the city. The lights glitter like a balance sheet that refuses to zero out.
Patrick Bateman sits perfectly upright, hands folded, immaculate suit. No sweat. No blink.
TRUMP
They keep saying it, Patrick. Too big to fail. I like that. It sounds strong. Historic. Banks love it. Countries love it.
BATEMAN
It’s a myth, Donald. A branding exercise. Like bottled water or artisanal stress.
TRUMP (turning)
Stress is good. Stress means you care.
BATEMAN
No. Stress is worthless. Like dandelions.
TRUMP
Dandelions?

BATEMAN
Yes. They grow everywhere. No effort. No discipline. They call it a revolution when enough of them show up at once. Yellow. Loud. Unsightly. Completely interchangeable.
TRUMP
People like revolutions. They chant. They post. Tremendous engagement.
BATEMAN
Engagement is meaningless without hierarchy. Dandelions don’t understand scale. They think volume equals power. They think being everywhere means being important.
TRUMP
I was everywhere once. Still am, frankly.
BATEMAN
Exactly. And that’s the flaw. When everything is visible, nothing is valuable. Scarcity is power. Control is silence.
TRUMP
But they say the system collapses when the little guys rise up.
BATEMAN
The system doesn’t collapse. It sheds. Like skin. Like morals. Like dead weight.
(leans forward slightly)
Dandelions don’t overthrow skyscrapers, Donald. They get paved over. Or monetized. Or sprayed with something very expensive and very legal.
TRUMP
So I’m not too big to fail?
BATEMAN
No one is too big to fail. They’re just too big to be blamed.
TRUMP (smiles)
I like that. That’s good. Very good.
BATEMAN
Of course you do.
(beat)
Failure is for people who still believe in consequences.
A pause. Outside, wind pushes through the streets. Somewhere, unseen, a field of dandelions bends.
TRUMP
So what do we do about the revolution?
BATEMAN
Nothing.
(stands, adjusts cufflinks)
Dandelions exhaust themselves trying to matter.
Bateman exits. Trump turns back to the window, nodding slightly, as if reassured—though nothing has actually changed.
CUT TO BLACK.


