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Normally the risk taker and the initiator in their little duo, Scott sat frozen, dumbfounded by the note. This felt like a huge opportunity to explode away from the colorless existence he'd been living, but now that the opportunity to do something about it had presented itself, all Scott could do was fold the note and stick it into his pocket. How quickly his bravado could be silenced by someone whose opinion he actually cared about. He felt suddenly worthless.

When the boys didn't react as he'd hoped, Warhol normally would have written them off as meaningless little squares. But they were twins and Andy just loved twins. He stood up, not bothering to excuse himself from his guests, and walked over to their table. Putting his hands on their mother's shoulders, he kneaded his fingers into her and leaned down in an overly friendly way. "These must be yours, correct? You do excellent work. I just love them." The woman's eyes went a bit wide and she couldn't find the words to reply back. Scott's eyes mimicked his mother's, but they were wide with gleeful surprise rather than horror.