Two men in jeans leaning on the fence. The younger man is a bit nervous, something of a city slicker; the older is more confident, possibly the one selling the unicorn.
Younger man: Not much to look at.
Older man: You ain’t happy with a unicorn, you want it pretty too?
The younger man is chastised.
Older man: They can be real mean. Watch em or they’ll eat each other.
Younger man: Oh, really? Gosh.
Older man: Finicky. Don’t grow for years, and then – [gesture: blam.]
Younger man: Uh huh. Uh huh.
Older man: Frail, too. One hard winter, they can all die on you.
Younger man: Well we’d probably... bring em inside.
Older man: In-house?
Younger man: Yeah. No? What are the... manure arrangements?
Older man: I’m talking about startups. You seem to be talking about my daughter’s Shetland ponies.
Older man walks off, shaking his head.
Wide shot: we see this ranch is just a small portion of older man’s estate. A GIGANTIC MANSION in the background.
Two lackeys in suits hurry after the older man: he is obviously some kind of T Boone Pickens style businessman. Younger man has been tested and found wanting, is left out in the field.