INT. OFFICE ROOM—NIGHT
In a condo in the heart of the entertainment district, a work-space-turned-gaming room under-lit in blue.
VAN, 24, wet haired and dressed in all black swirls her pre-shower aerated wine in a glass. She settles it down next to her laptop and sits adjacent to her partner, who has finished a round of a game.
VAN
Hey babe. Do you remember that thing we were talking about
in the morning, where I had a little epiphany, but you probably
don’t know what it was ‘cus it was more of an internal thought…
We were listening to country music?
HAYDEN, 27, dry haired, also dressed in all black, headphones half on with one ear exposed, gives his mouse a few clicks and gives her a pensive look.
HAYDEN
Well I don’t think it was this morning because we just woke up and
watched Final Table. Are you sure it wasn’t yesterday? At night?
Van shuffles in her seat trying to remember the order of events, and then order of days. Hayden’s eyes narrow accusingly, a hint of a smile pushes the corners of his goatee.
HAYDEN
Was it that thing that I said you should write down but then you said
you didn’t need to because you’d for sure remember it?