Billie Eilish and Quentin Tarantino are stuck in Cabin in a Snowstorm and forced to have a deep conversation.

Billie: (deadpan) So, like, all this blood… is it *really* necessary, Quentin? Seems a bit extra, even for snow.

Quentin: (excitedly) Extra? Honey, it's *poetry*! Each crimson splash tells a story, a symphony of suffering!

Billie: I just think maybe less screaming, more… internal dread, you know? Subtlety's kinda scary these days.

Quentin: Subtlety? That's for Ingmar Bergman, baby. I'm all about the operatic death scene, the glorious over-the-top demise!

Billie: Okay, but what about the *why*? Like, what's the point of all the violence if there's no real feeling behind it?

Quentin: Feeling? It’s cathartic! We’re confronting the darkness, the ugliness, and making it… beautiful.

Billie: Beautifully disturbing, maybe. It's just… I feel like people are already numb. We need something real to cut through it.

Quentin: Real? Artifice is the new real, darling. The heightened reality is where the truth hides.

Billie: Maybe. Or maybe it's hiding in the quiet moments, the spaces between the screaming, that no one's paying attention to.

Quentin: (nodding slowly, intrigued) Hmmm… the pregnant pause before the pistol whip… I like the sound of that.