INT. SIMONE AND BEA'S APARTMENT, LONDON, NIGHT

SCENE: It is around 2am, and the small London apartment inhabited by BEA, 21, and SIMONE, 22, is dark. Suddenly, the light on the stairs up from the front door turns on.

SIMONE begins to walk up the staircase, trying hard to miss that one creaky step so as not to wake up BEA.

She is wearing a short, sparkly minidress, and her heels are swinging from her index finger. Her makeup looks like she's been dancing in a hot, sweaty nightclub for several hours - because she has.

SIMONE turns the corner into the living room, and finds BEA sitting, curled up, on the sofa, wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket. She looks up at SIMONE, eyes red and puffy.

SIMONE: Oh no.

BEA: (tearily) Uh-huh.

SIMONE: Do you need wine?

BEA: (high-pitched) Mmm-hm.

SIMONE: Don't move. I'll nip to the corner shop and I'll be back in five.

SCENE: Simone jogs back down the stairs, slipping on a random jacket and a pair of trainers. Fade to black, and fade in on SIMONE sitting next to BEA on the sofa, one arm around her, rubbing her back. BEA is sipping wine from a mug.

SIMONE: Would it help if we did the usual thing?

BEA: I don't know.

SIMONE: Let's do it anyway, ok? Look at me.

BEA: I'm all puffy.

SIMONE: I've seen you vomit up a whole bottle of red wine.

BEA: ...Fine.

SIMONE: You are...?

BEA: (mumbling) Beautiful.

SIMONE: And you are...?

BEA: Talented.

SIMONE: And you will...?

BEA: Crush my enemies.

SIMONE: And they will...?

BEA: Rue the day they were born.

SIMONE: It's true, you know. You're strong and powerful and-

BEA: Don't give me all that Instagram quote stuff. I'm useless and stupid and he- he-

SCENE: BEA cries into her wine mug.

SIMONE: Hang the fuck on. You don't talk about my best friend like that. Especially not because of some stupid man-child who always smelled faintly of feet.

BEA: (from within the blanket) He did smell of feet.

SIMONE: Say it again. You are...?

BEA: Beautiful.

SIMONE: Take the blanket out of your mouth! Sit up straight!

BEA: Yes mum.

SIMONE: (like a rallying cry) You! Are!

BEA: Beautiful.

SIMONE: You! Are!

BEA: Talented.

SIMONE: Louder! You! Will!

BEA: (sitting up) Crush my enemies?

SIMONE: And -

BEA: They will rue the day they were born!

SIMONE: FUCKING RIGHT THEY WILL. And Kyle, who uses three-in-one bodywash and shampoo, remember, is definitely enemy number uno. And, listen -

SCENE: SIMONE grabs BEA's face between her palms and squishes it.

SIMONE: The best revenge is living well. And babe, we are going to live so well. We're going to get super-mega-hot. We're going to get promoted. We're going to get invited into the VIP section of La Danse. And we're going to marry men who think we're the fucking tits.

BEA: (squishily) Yeah!

SIMONE: You deserve better than Kyle. You deserve... a seven-foot-tall fireman who knows how to knit.

BEA: Ooooh.

SIMONE: Kyle is old salad that smells of fridge. New boyfriend will be a freshly delivered pizza.

(beat)

BEA & SIMONE: ...We should get pizza.