DIPESTO: You want something, Mr. Addison?
DAVID: Me? Want something? (glancing about; casual; glib; a smile on his face) Just checking if the mail's here...
DIPESTO (and then; noticing the glance): She's not in yet.
DAVID: Who's that?
DIPESTO: Miss Hayes...
DAVID (an even bigger smile): Miss Hayes? She's delivering the mail now?
ON DIPESTO ...and she has no answer for that...
ON DAVID...and he rolls his eyes...and pushes himself away for her desk and starts back towards his office...
ON DIPESTO ...returning to her work as well...
DAVID (O.C) (not turning; still walking towards his office; throwing it away): So what'd she say?
ANOTHER ANGLE...as Dipesto looks up...now totally lost...
DIPESTO: Excuse me?
...and David STOPS...and TURNS to her...casual as hell...
DAVID (no big deal): Well...I mean...doesn't she usually call in if she's going to be late?
...and Dipesto NODS...
DAVID: She didn't call in?
...and Dipesto SHAKES HER HEAD...
DAVID (turning towards his office again; feigning surprise but no concern): Gee...
DIPESTO (her concern authentic): Yeah...Gee... (and then) You think I should call?
ON DAVID...just reaching for the knob to his office door...his back to Dipesto...but we can SEE on his face that clearly he thinks she should...clearly he HOPES she will...
ANOTHER ANGLE...as he turns from the door...
DAVID: Gosh...I don't know, Agnes.
DIPESTO: Wow... (and then) Well I think maybe I should...
...and as David makes his way back towards her...Dipesto quickly picks up the phone...and then just as quickly HANGS IT UP...
DIPESTO: On second thought...maybe I shouldn't...
DAVID: Whaaa?
DIPESTO: Miss Hayes might think I'm prying.
DAVID: Prying?
DIPESTO (certain of it now): Prying.
DAVID: But Agnes...you wouldn't be prying...
DIPESTO: I wouldn't?
DAVID: Hell no. Making an innocent inquiry about someone for whom you have nothing but concern and care isn't prying.
DIPESTO: It isn't?
DAVID: Absolutely not. I think she'd be gratified. Impressified. Deep fried.
DIPESTO (picking up the phone): You think so? (and then; thinking; lowering the phone) I don't know...I mean, she's the boss. This is her company. She should be able to come and go as she pleases. I mean if she chooses to be two hours late...mine is not to question why.
On DAVID who manages a wan look of support back...
DAVID (turning): Well...maybe...
...and then
DAVID (turning back): Unless...of course...(and then)...well, forget it...
ANOTHER ANGLE...to include them both...as she stares at him expectantly...
DAVID: It's not the kind of thing you really want to think about so close to lunch...
DIPESTO: What's that?
DAVID (sighing; and then): That accident-waiting-to-happen she calls a staircase. (off Dipesto's look) Way I figure...it's just a matter of time before she rolls out of bed some morning...running a little late...tosses herself together...fish-tails outta the bedroom...catches a spiked heel on that designer carpet of hers...and does a Flying Wallenda down the stairs.
DIPESTO: No!
DAVID: Yeah...and there she'd be...lying there...spread eagle...dead weight on on the Mexican tile in a pool of her own plasma...
On DIPESTO...as this sinks in...and then...
DIPESTO (picking up the phone): Don't move Mr. Addison...
...and she BEGINS PUNCHING numbers...then PAUSES mid-dial as something else hits her...and SLOWLY HANGS UP the phone again...and then...
DIPESTO (even more upset): But if that did happen...she wouldn't be able to answer the phone anyway...would she?
...and DAVID just looks at her blankly...trying to mask his frustration...exhaling...then...
DAVID (turning): Good thinkin' Agnes...
...and we....CUT TO:
INT. DAVID'S OFFICE...as he enters...closes the door behind him...CROSSES to his desk...slumps down in his chair...and he sits there a moment...dead still...then quickly sits up...REACHES FOR THE PHONE...begins dialing...pauses...then SLAMS it back down, pissed...at a loss...even more at loose end than before...