FBAG1
INT. FLEABAG FLAT. CORRIDOR. NIGHT. Shot of the inside of a front door. Fleabag’s POV. Shot of Fleabag a few steps away from the door, watching it as if she’s ready to pounce. Smudged makeup, hair tousled. Out of breath. Shot of the inside of a front door. Fleabag’s POV. Shot of Fleabag. She turns to the camera. FLEABAG (Earnest, touch of pain) You know that feeling when a guy you like sends you a text at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday night and asks if he can ‘come and find you’ and you accidentally make it out like you’ve just got in yourself, so you have to get out of bed, drink half a bottle of wine, get in the shower, shave everything, put on some agent provocateur business, suspender belt, and wait by the door until the buzzer goes - (buzzer goes) And then you open the door to him like you’d almost forgotten he was coming over. She opens the door to a handsome man. FLEABAG (CONT’D) (casual) Oh hi! GUY YOU LIKE Hey. FLEABAG (to the camera) Then you get to it immediately They start snogging violently.