Slipped Quickly

Slipped Quickly


SLIPPED QUICKLY

By

Scott Spjut


Ext. City streets - NIGHT
Pedestrians shuffle past each other on a busy city street. Their heads are down -- some looking at their phones, some staring at LCD displays built into the sidewalks, others just gazing down at nothing.
ELISE, 40, head also down, nuzzles her chin into an upturned collar in an effort to avoid the gaze of the other citizens.
She sees the sidewalk flash red and stops at the intersection. Next to the sidewalk semaphore a commercial plays. It shows strong men, heads down, digging ditches with the text "Power Through Work" and beautiful women, heads down, climbing mountains with the text "Power Through Pain."
The pavement flashes green. Gradually the crowds thin as Elise walks farther from the main roads and further into curfew. She stops at a coffee shop.
Int. Coffee shop - CONTINUOUS
The cafe is filled with displays, and young people, but it is nearly silent. Patrons listen to what's on screen through headphones, so the only sound in the room is the clank and hiss and pour of coffees and teas being made and served.
The baristas wear flannel shirts and big, bulky shoes — part of the grunger subculture.
Elise approaches the counter.
Elise
Cold brew. Black, please. To go.
As the BARISTA pours the drink, Elise is startled when one man breaks the silence with a piercing, hearty laugh seemingly from out of nowhere.
The barista delivers the drink. Elise reaches into her bag and pulls out a metal straw, sticking it in the top.
As she turns, a display catches her eye -- a music video from the 2020's. She pulls up her phone and presses a button. The audio immediately channels into her headphones. But after a moment, all the displays are interrupted at once. A commercial, similar is style to the one Elise saw earlier.
Commercial Voice
Union Discovery is now enabled. The 10 p.m. government curfew is in effect. You may travel freely. Please do so with caution.

2.
Elise
(to the room)
"is NOW enabled" does anyone actually believe that?
She looks toward the barista. He just shrugs.
Elise
I mean, Union Discovery has to be on all the time, right? All the time. They're just ADMITTING to tracking us after curfew.
Elise looks around to see if anyone is listening. They aren't.
Elise
I mean, right?!
Still nothing.
Int. Warehouse - later
Elise enters through a back door and throws her now-empty coffee cup into the trash -- keeping the straw. BRUNO takes her coat.
Bruno
Welcome, Eli.
Elise
Don't call me that.
BRUNO
We weren't sure you'd come.
ELISe
I wasn't sure you were worth it.
Bruno escorts Elise down a hallway. They come to a door guarded by two BODYGUARDS, who allow Bruno and Elise to enter.
Int. Backroom - CONTINUOUS
A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling. A thick, manila envelope sits on an otherwise empty table in the middle of the room.
Elise
The decor is a little dramatic, no?

3.
PAMELA sits on a leather couch. She's large. Plump. From decades of a 9-to-5 desk job
Pamela
I could say the same about your speech on the hill today.
Elise walks toward the envelope.
PAMELA
This makes you no better than them, you know. You're as sanctimonious as the rest.
She picks it up.
Elise
I don't need a lecture from you, of all people.
PAMELA
Of all people? Bruno, did you hear what she said to me?
Bruno
I heard.
PaMELA
(dismissively)
Of all people.
ELISE
Do you think the ends justify the means?
PAMELA
You're asking me?
ELISE
Do the ends justify the means?
PAMELA
I'm not your priest. I'm not your therapist. If you don't want what's in there, then leave it and get the hell out. Otherwise, keep it, get the hell out and get me my vote.
Elise turns the envelope over in her hands a few times, slides it into her bag, and walks out the door.

Take Charge

TAKE CHARGE


TAKE CHARGE

By

Scott Spjut


Int. Office lobby -- morNING
WREN enters the lobby of a tall office building. The room has marble floors and elaborate sconces. Even though dozens of people are flowing in and out of the revolving doors, the room is quiet. Reverent. Clean.
Wren (23) wears professional attire -- with sneakers -- and eagerly approaches the front desk with a big smile. A guard, RYAN (50) -- a tall, broad-shouldered black man with big hands and a bigger scowl -- sits at the welcome desk. Wren approaches.
Wren
Hi. It's my first day.
Ryan
Where?
WREN
Uh, here, I think? Am I in the right building?
Ryan
What company?
Wren
Oh -- ha -- right. The Global Times magazine.
Ryan
ID?
She hands the guard her ID, and he begins looking up her information.
Wren
Wren Higgins.
(beat)
I just graduated from J school.
The guard continues to type tacitly at the computer.
Wren
University of Texas ... at Austin.
More silent working.
WREN
Hook 'em horns!
She laughs. He doesn't.

2.
The printer at the front desk pops out a temporary pass. The guard hands Wren's ID back to her. He swipes her temporary pass and the gate opens. He hands her the pass.
Ryan
14th floor. Elevator on the right.
She grabs it from him, affixes the temporary pass to her lapel, and heads off.
WREN
Thanks!
Int. Elevator -- conTINUOUS
The elevator matches the lobby's style -- clean, professional, with a touch of luxury.
As the elevator goes up, Wren removes her sneakers and puts on some high heels. She shoves the sneakers in her bag just as she arrives at the 14th floor.
The doors open to a hallway with big glass doors that say "The Global Times".
Int. Global times offices -- conTINUOUS
Wren opens the doors and finds -- a mostly empty floor. Old, gray computers sit atop old, gray cubicles. The tinge of luxury decor up to this point has been replaced with a tired, cliche newsroom.
She wanders through the cubicle aisles looking for -- anyone. She finally sees an office with "HR" labeled on the door. She knocks and slowly opens the door.
Int. HR office -- contiNUOUS
JEAN sits behind a desk.
Jean
Good morning! How can I help you?
Wren
Yeah, uh, it's my first day here. I'm supposed to be starting today.
JEAN
Wonderful! And your name?
Wren walks in and takes a seat.

3.
WREN
Wren, uh, Wren Higgins.
JEAN
Oh yes, Wren. I've got your paperwork right here.
Jean picks up a stack of folders and thumbs through them.
Jean
Here we are!
She opens Wren's folder and reads through it. Jean looks up.
JEAN
Yes. You're fired.
Wren
I'm sorry?
Jean reads from a piece of paper from the file.
JEAN
We have very much appreciated your dedication while employed here at T.G.T. -- but a business decision has been made to let you go.
WREN
Appreciated my dedication? I just got here.
JEAN
(reading)
You will be compensated for any previously submitted timesheets -- as well as from when you punched in this morning until now.
Jean puts the paper down.
WREN
What, the past 3 minutes? I don't have a punch card or anything. I don't work here.
Jean
That's the spirit.
WREN
What happened? Where are the reporters? The editors? The designers?

4.
JEAN
Well, it won't be announced publicly until this afternoon, but The Global Times was bought out -- over the weekend.
Wren
Wait, is this conversation on the record?
Wren reaches into her backpack and pulls out a notepad and pencil.
WrEN
Who bought it out? What did they buy? When did they buy it? Where ... uh ... did they buy it? Why did they buy it?
She writes "Who, What, When, Where, Why" on her notepad, leaving several lines in between each to fill in the answers.
Jean
Are you -- trying to use me as a source? For a publication that not only do you not work for, but that may not exist come this afternoon?
WREN
Oh right. So what do I do?
JEAN
I could care less. I'm just here to get any stragglers who didn't see last night's email.
Jean pulls out an unopened bottle of bourbon and two glasses.
Jean
Drink?
Wren stands up.
Wren
No. I'm a journalist, damn it.
JEAN
Journalists drink.
Wren
I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I'm going to find out WHO bought The Global Times, and I'm going get a job from them. I didn't spend six weeks on the arts and entertainment beat at UT for nothing! I didn't make phone call after phone call, walk from campus building to other campus building, just to come all this way and give up! No. I'm a reporter. And I'm going to report the news.

5.
Wren gathers her things and storms out of the room. Jean pours herself a drink.
Wren pops her head back in.
Wren
You COULDN'T care less.
Jean
What?
WREN
Earlier -- when you said you "could care less" -- you really should have said you "couldn't care less."
Jean stares back, blankly.
Wren
... just FYI -- for next time.
Wren leaves with a smile. Jean downs her drink.
Int. EleVATOR -- CONTINUOUS
Wren pulls out her sneakers, takes off her high heels, and switches shoes again.
Wren
(to herself)
Okay. Okay. Okay. How am I going to ... they couldn't just fire everyone ... are they just going to stop publishing?
She continues to mutter to herself.
Wren
Twitter!!!
She pulls out her phone and starts furiously typing.

6.
WREN
If journalism school taught me anything, when it doubt, Twitter.
The elevator arrives at the lobby.
Int. OFFICE LOBBY -- CONTINUOUS
She frantically searches through Twitter as she strides through the lobby, dodging other heads-down worker bees, and passing Ryan. She gets to the lobby doors and begins to push them open, but pauses.
Wren
(shouting)
TMI!
The room screeches to a halt.
Wren
Uh, Telecom Marketing International. That's who bought .. uh ... nevermind ...
She pushes through the doors to outside.
Int. Outside -- conTINUOUS
The street is hustling and bustling. She stops in the middle of the sidewalk.
Wren
(to self)
Now I've just got to find out where these TMI offices are.
She searches on her phone and discovers -- they're in the same building. On the 15th floor.
Wren
You've got to be kidding me!
She clumsily switches back into her high heels. She turns and re-enters the building.
Int. OFFICE LOBBY -- CONTINUOUS
She enters and walks right past Ryan again, trying to get through the gate. She pushes and nothing happens.

7.
Ryan
Your pass?
Wren
Ha! Right, of course.
She swipes her pass. Nothing happens.
She tries again -- nothing.
RYAN
(motioning her over)
Ma'am.
WREN
Don't you remember me? You just -- you JUST saw me. I just showed you my ID and everything.
RYAN
Badge please.
The guard checks his computer.
RyAN
It's not valid.
WREN
What?!
RYAN
Says you were terminated. On your first day?
WREN
I wasn't fired. I was laid off.
RYAN
Were you ever hired?
WREN
I need to go back up there. Could you please just -- you know what?
Wren takes off. She hops over the gates, losing one shoe in the process. She frantically mashes the elevator button.
Ryan leaves his desk and comes after her.
The elevator door isn't opening. Wren darts for the stairwell.

8.
INT. STAIRWELL -- CONTINUOUS
She throws open the heavy metal door, takes off her other shoe, and lumbers up the stairs -- taking them two at a time, shoe still in hand.
A moment later she hears the heavy metal door open and close again.
Realizing she's being followed by the security guard, she keeps booking it up the stairs -- all 15 floors.
She gets to the top, hunched over, breathing heavily, exhausted, and pushes open the stairwell door to the main floor.
Int. Tmi offices -- conTINUOUS
Ryan is standing there, outside the elevator, and walks toward her.
Wren
How did you ... I thought ... I heard ... hold on ...
She continues to pant. Ryan puts his hand around her arm.
Wren
Just give me a ... I really think I'm going to throw up ... you want that to happen? All over your standard issue shoes here? Give me some space.
He takes his hand from around her arm and places it on her back -- and she takes off again through the TMI office doors.
Wren
(shouting)
I'm here! I'm here! Please! I want my job back!
Ryan follows shortly after and begins to drag Wren away. She grabs onto the front desk, refusing to budge. Slamming her shoe onto the surface.
Wren
Let me go! I work here now! Sanctuary! I claim sanctuary!
A older gentleman, bolo tie, boots, suit, walks by. This is JACK, the owner and chairman of TMI. He sports a white goatee, a thick southern drawl, and the delicate sensibilities of someone raised on a proper estate in rural Texas -- because he was. Richard Branson meets Yosemite Sam.

9.
He's accompanied by his assistant, AMELIA.
Jack
Just a minute sir. Ma'am, what is going on here? Does she work here?
Ryan
No.
Wren
Yes!
Wren
(beat)
No. Kind of. I was supposed to start at The Global Times today.
Jack
I don't know what that is.
WREN
(beat)
You don't know what The Global Times is? You own it!
Jack
Oh THAT! Yes, I think I do recall buyin' that magazine. Still don' know what to do w'it. Always wanted to own one, you know? Today is your first day, you said?
WREN
Yes sir.
JACK
And where are you comin' from?
WREN
Just graduated from journalism school. UT. Hook 'em horns!
JACK
Hook 'em horns! Yes indeed. My alma mater. What was it exactly y'were hired t'do?
Wren
A writer, sir. Reporter.
Jack turns to his assistant.

10.
JACK
Amelia, when do all the magazine people start again?
AMELIA
Sir, they don't. You laid everyone off.
JACK
I did? E'ryone?
Amelia opens up a manila folder, leans over and shows Jack some paperwork.
AMELIA
Everyone, sir.
Jack thinks for moment, then points to Wren.
Jack
Put her in charge. She's clearly a fighter.
Ryan finally lets go of Wren.
Wren
(shocked)
In charge?!
(professional, confident)
Of course! Not a problem. I'll take care of it. Thank you sir.
Jack smiles and nods. He and Amelia begin to walk away.
Wren
(calling out to Jack)
Sir, I am going to need some help.
Jack
That's fine. Your friend there can work here too.
WREN
My friend?! No he ... uh ...
Ryan is as stunned as Wren. He tries to call out, but Jack is long gone.
WREN
So ... uh ... you like your job downstairs?
Ryan
Yes, actually.

11.
Wren
Really? When you were a little boy, you dreamed of becoming a security guard?
Ryan
Yes, actually.
(beat)
Bull Shannon was my hero.
Wren
Who is Bull Sh -- doesn't matter. Do you have any hobbies?
Ryan narrows his eyes.
RYAN
(curtly)
I draw.
Wren
Good. We'll need an art director.
Ryan is unconvinced.
Wren
You'll be a journalist! Speaking truth to power! Political cartoons! Layouts! Infographics!
RyAN
Will you be telling me what to do?
WREN
No. Of course not. You -- you do you. Whatever you want.
RYAN
Okay.
WREN
Great. Now we just need literally every other job filled.
(beat)
Amelia!
Wren takes off running in the direction that Amelia left.
WrEN
(shouting)
Amelia!
Amelia stops and turns.

12.
Amelia
Yes?
WREN
Is it too late to unfire some people?
AMELIA
We didn't fire anyone.
Wren
Un-layoff them. Whatever. I need a list of all the previous TGT employees. Is that what you have in that folder there?
AmELIA
That information is for internal use only.
WREN
I am ... I am internal. I'm an employee.
AMELIA
Are you though?
WREN
When I get this magazine up and running, I am going to op-ed you so hard.
AMELIA
You don't make sense.
Wren glares for a moment. Then has a lightbulb moment.
Wren
HR lady!
int. HR OFFICE -- CONTINUOUS
Wren bursts through the HR door. Jane is three-quarters of the way through her bottle of bourbon.
Wren
HR lady! I need your help.
jean
Huh? I'm Jean.

13.
WREN
Jean, I need your h-- are you drunk?
JeAN
Do you have any idea how hard this is?
Wren walks over to sit by Jean's side. She puts her arm around her.
WREN
I'm so sorry. I can't imagine. How many people have you had to tell this morning?
JEAN
Oh, no one. It's just hard sitting here by myself.
(beat)
When I'm bored, I drink.
WREN
How would you like your job back?
JEAN
Meh.
WREN
How would you like to help other people get their jobs back?
JEAN
I'm intrigued.
WREN
Call everyone. Tell them this week's budget meeting starts at noon.
int. GLOBAL TIMES OFFICES -- noon
Wren sits in an office, staring at a clock on the wall. 11:59 ticks over to 12:00 and she walks out of the office to the open floor.
There stand Ryan, Jean, and three other employees -- Adam, Bryn and Colt. Wren stands in front of them, positioned to give a rousing speech.

14.
Wren
Congratulations. You are the first of what I assume will be many returning employees.
Jean
No, this is it.
Wren
What?
Jean
I called everyone back already. Talked to them all. Adam, Bryn and Colt are the only ones who wanted to come back.
WREN
Wait, no one else? What did the others say?
Jean pulls out a notepad.
Jean
Go eff yourself. Why the eff would I believe you? Who the eff is Wren Higgins? That eff-face CEO can go eff himself. It'll be an effin' cold day in H-E-double hockey stick before I --
Wren
Okay, I get it.
JEAN
And one man told me to get bent. Which, at first, did not seem vulgar but it is actually wildly inappropriate.

Newlyweds

NEWLYWEDS


NEWLYWEDS

By

Scott Spjut


INT. APARTMENT – EVENING
YEV slinks deeper into her couch, watching whatever guilty pleasure happens to be pouring from the TV. She twists her wedding ring on her finger, still getting used to it. It glistens against her pale, freckled skin. The emerald inset in the ring sparkles.
Stacks of presents and gift bags – with white bows and simple prints – clutter the various corners of the apartment.
REMY comes through the front door.
REMY
You didn't cheat, did you?
Yev clutches the non-existent pearls around her neck and gasps.
YEV
I would never!
Remy puts down his bag, kneels next to Yev and gives her a long kiss.
REMY
Which one should we open tonight?
YEV
Whichever one keeps me from getting off this couch.
Remy grabs the small package next to him and sets it down between them. They each grab a seam and pull – revealing his-and-hers monogrammed socks – sDs and cDg. They burst into laugher.
REMY
These have to be from your family.
YEV
Doesn't matter. I love them.
She puts them on as Remy plops down next to her socked feet. He puts his on as well. He then begins to massage her feet.
REMY
What're we watching?
YEV
It's a documentary about mermaids.
REMY
Like, of mermaid myths?

2.
YEV
No, about actual mermaids, their anatomy, and all that.
Remy narrows his eyes at her.
YEV
I know. Just let me hate myself, okay?
After a moment, Remy takes one of her feet and holds the sole up to his ear.
REMY
Hello?
(beat)
This is he.
Yev giggles and tries to pull her foot away, but Remy holds on. He moves her foot down to his lap and turns to her.
REMY
Do you mind? I'm on the phone.
He pulls her foot back to his ear.
REMY
Sorry about that. What were you saying?
YEV
(pleading)
Stop!
She struggles desperately and unsuccessfully to retrieve her foot and end the call.
REMY
(sternly)
I swear to god, woman – if I lose this sale because of you.
Yev finally wriggles free, then lurches at Remy – grabbing his midsection. For a big, burly man, he is surprisingly ticklish.
Stifling fits of laughter, he grabs Yev's arms and they roll onto the floor. He's on top of her, with her arms pinned above her head.
They share a passionate kiss, which evolves into more passion as Yev rolls them over so she's on top. She sits upright and takes off her shirt, throwing it across the room.

3.
There's a loud knock at the door.
YEV
Of course.
She goes off to retrieve her shirt, Remy goes to the door, as the knocking continues. He opens the door, but the chain lock is on. Through the slit in the door, we see AGENT LOCKE and two more FBI agents (BIGGS, WEDGE) in the hallway.
LOCKE
Mr. Lynch? Remington Lynch?
Remy stands there, unmoving, silent.
LOCKE
Sir? Are you Remington Lynch?
REMY
(calmly)
Can you, uh, give me one moment?
Remy closes the door. He locks the deadbolt. Locke continues to pound on the door and yell. Remy goes over to Yev, who is still composing herself. He pulls them both down to their knees.
REMY
You need to run.
YEV
What?
REMY
You need to go out on the fire escape, and you need to run.
YEV
I don't underst ... why?!
REMY
I'm sorry. But please. I will figure out how to explain all of this at some point ... later. You have to leave.
Yev heads toward the window, then climbs out and closes it behind her.
Remy is still on his knees, his back toward the front door. He slowly raises his hands, interlocks his fingers, and places his clasped hands behind his head.

4.
The door frame shatters as the door is kicked in. LOCKE leads the other two as they all come in, yelling, with their guns drawn.
REMY
(yelling)
I am unarmed! I am not resisting! I am unarmed! I am not resisting!
Locke immediately zipties Remy's hands, shoves him down on his stomach, and stays on top of him, pinning him down. The other two check the rest of the apartment.
AGENT BIGGS
Clear!
AGENT WEDGE
Clear!
They all holster their weapons and surround Remy.
LOCKE
You are Remington Lynch?
Remy does not respond. He does not move.
LOCKE
Are you Remington Lynch?
Nothing.
LOCKE
(to Biggs, Wedge)
Alright, boys, let's take him–
As Locke stands and turns, BAM! – Yev, who has come in through the front door, kicks him in the side of the neck with her socked foot. He collapses. Wedge and Biggs -- who were both squatting to lift Remy -- begin to stand and reach for their guns. Yev takes each of them out as well with a short but well-choreographed fight sequence.
All three agents are out cold. Yev moves quickly and calmly. She zipties Wedge and Biggs. She takes the monogramed socks off her own feet and shoves one in Biggs' mouth, one in Wedge's.
A prostrate, still-cuffed - and baffled - Remy rolls over and sits up.
REMY
What the– what– how–?

5.
She kneels down next to Remy, removes one of his socks, and shoves it in Locke's mouth. She picks up Wedge's gun, unloads and disassembles it quickly and calmly. It's clearly not her first time. She starts doing the same with Biggs' gun.
Remy is shocked.
REMY
What's going on? Untie me!
She continues to work.
REMY
Who are you?
YEV
None of your business stay out of my personal life.
Yev finishes unloading and taking apart the second gun. Then she picks up Locke's gun, cocks it and points it at Remy.
YEV
But I know exactly who you are.
REMY
I don't know what you're talking about.
YEV
You are Remington Francis Lynch, from the suburbs of Tashkent, Uzbekistan, born June 23, 1979 to American parents living abroad – you have a doctorate degree in Informatics and Computer Engineering from Saint-Petersburg State University. You're a huge fan of Portland grunge band Everclear. You've been working undercover for the Russian government as a hacker for the past 7 years.
(beat)
How am I doing so far?
Remy stares back blankly.
REMY
Lots of people know I like Everclear.
YEV
Cute.

6.
REMY
Well, I totally know about you. And how you work for the ... FBI?
Yev laughs.
Remy
CIA?
She begins to pat Remy down, searching for a weapon or a wire. As she talks, she pulls out his keys, cell phone, wallet, and places them all on the floor next to him.
YEV
First of all, I don't do beach vacations. Do you see my lovely porcelain skin? You think this happens laying out? Also, that stupid, shitty birthday present. If you really knew me you wouldn't have gotten it -- especially not in that color. Also, also, that wasn't my actual birthday. So –
Yev hits him in the face with the butt of the gun.
YEV
No, you don't know about me. You don't know shit.
As blood pours down his head, Remy looks around and gestures to the knocked out agents.
REMY
So these aren't your guys?
YEV
If these were my guys I'd have shot them myself for being so sloppy.
REMY
So what are you? Who do you work for?
YEV
I mean, I'm going to kill you some time in the next 3 minutes, so be sure you fit in all these really important questions.
Remy's cell phone rings – his hands are still ziptied, he can't get to it, but he tries regardless. Yev answers it.

7.
YEV
(in Uzbek)
Salom? U bu erda. U yig'layapti. U o'lishni xohlaydi.
[Hello there? He is here. He is crying. He is about to die.]
YEV
(to Remy)
My Uzbek is a little rusty. But I'm pretty sure he's saying I should kill you -- you're no use to him anymore.
REMY
What?
YEV
Aww, he says that after your mother died last year, your numbers have been down.
(puts phone against chest)
Honey, I didn't realize you were having such a hard time. Why didn't you tell me?
Remy gets misty eyed. He stares down at the floor.
YEV
He also says he'll replace you in 15 minutes with someone cheaper and better.
REMY
I want immunity.
YEV
Sure. Sounds good. I want a name.
Remy continues to stare at the floor. He sighs.
REMY
Craven Laycock.
YEV
Don't make shit up.
REMY
I swear to god. That's the name I've heard.
Yev shoots Remy in his sockless foot. He screams out in pain.

8.
YEV
"Craven Laycock" sure sounds like a super villain name, so I see why you went with that, but unluckily for you I know Craven Laycock was the dean of Dartmouth College who suspended Dr. Fucking Seuss. So – don't lie to me again. I don't want to put a hole in your other foot – or in your brand new socks.
Yev puts the phone back up to her ear.
YEV
Your boy is putting up quite a fight, you sure you want me to kill him?
She scrunches her face and shakes her head back at Remy – as if you say "oooh, tough luck, buddy, looks like things aren't going to work out"
REMY
Felix Malmstedt. That's who I've been working with.
Yev smiles and drops the phone down from her ear.
YEV
Malmstedt. Is that S-T-E-A-D? Or S-T-E-D-you know what, nevermind. I'll figure it out.
REMY
Are you still going to kill me?
YEV
I don't have to.
She puts the phone on speaker, and from it we hear:
PHONE
To claim your five-day, four-night, all-expense-paid cruise to the Bahamas, please press one. This is a limited time offer, so you must act fast!
Yev drops the phone at Remy's bleeding foot, the recorded voice still talking. She takes off his other sock and gently stuffs it in his mouth. He stares down at the phone, and she lifts his head by his chin. She kisses the tip of his nose.
He collapses.

9.
Yev puts on some flip flops by the door, grabs her keys, and strolls out of the apartment – locking the door behind her.
Int. Hallway - CONTINUOUS
Yev walks briskly down the hallway. She puts her finger to her ear.
YEV
Let the PostHoc Team know there are four -- three friendlies.
Through an earpiece is FRANCES, a fresh-faced, 22-year-old female tech.
FRANCES (O.S.)
For being friendlies, you sure weren't very -- FRIENDLY -- to them.
YEV
Frances --
INT. HEADQUARTERS - SAME TIME
A warehouse of computers and displays and people is buzzing with activity. Frances wear a headset.
FRANCES
Yes boss?
INTERCUT - PHONE CONVERSATION
YEV
Now that you've got this new gig, and you and I are going to be working together, you need to know something important.
FRANCES
Hold on let me get something to write wi--
Yev
That joke will never be funny.
FRANCES
STONE is not going to be happy.

10.
YEV
Yeah, well, Stone can get bent. Maybe if he checked his email every once in a while we'd have known the FBI's raid was today. When I have to improvise, people's feet get shot.
FRANCES
Have you shot other people's feet before?
YEV
(beat)
Metaphorically.