He doesn't ask her how she's doing until after she agrees to give him the June 1st money today. An advance.

They don't start on the right foot because he's rung the bell to get in, which is explicitly forbidden, but his wheelchair and homelessness slide along our guilt and into action.

"How are you anyway?"

He was looking for Po, but he isn't here.

"It's smoking outside," he says, referring to the heat. It must be 90 degrees, which is hot for San Francisco in May.

He mentions a book that she's written, that a lady friend of his might like.

"Do you want me to make this out to her?"

"Uh, huh. To Patty."

"How do you spell that?"

"P-A-T-T-Y. "

"She your girlfriend?"

"No, she's the lady in the shop. She's broke, too. She'll enjoy this."

"Okay. You should read this, too. It's easy, see?" She leafs through a few pages. "Pictures!"

They hug before he goes. She's worried about his replacement chair, and he explains.

"Bye, Sweetie. See ya... Next, time call me, don't ring the bell!"