Communication Door - Ruella

P: I don't know.

R: Is he still in there?

P: No.

R: Well, where is he?

P: He's in here.

R: In here? Where in here?

P: We're sitting on him.

R: My god!

P: He's under there...

R: How did he get under there, for heaven's sake?

P: ...I dragged him out here... and then I pulled the sofa over him to stop him getting up again...

R: Well, that's practical, anyway. How long's he been under there?

P: Ages.

R: I'd better take a look.

P: That end.

R: Right.

P: Don't let him out.

R: I'm not going to let him out, for goodness sake. I just want to see if he's alive. Though I should imagine if the lavatory didn't get him, then this sofa certainly has. Well, I'm no doctor but I have to say he looks pretty damn dead to me. Well done.

P: I'm a murderer now.

R: A murder? A murderer? The man came into your bedroom, tried to drown you and slipped on a bar of soap. How does that make you a murderer?

P: They won't believe me. They'll never believe me.

R: You won't be here. You can go back now. You're safe. He's dead. He can't hurt you any more. Think of that.

P: Yes.

R: Now come on, cheer up, Phoebe. The worst is over. You're safe. Say it. I'm safe now.

P: I'm safe now.

R: That's just migor rortis, that's all it is...

P: What?

R: Rigor-mortis.

P: Yes. How do you know it's rigor mortis?

R: I don't. I'm guessing. He can't possibly be alive though. He's been lying there with half a ton of hors hair on his face. He must be dead. We're all right. We're safe. Keep saying it. We're safe.

P: I may be safe. What about you? How are you going to explain to him? He didn't try to drown you, did he?

R: They're not to know that.

P: They might want to know how he's suddenly aged twenty years overnight, though.

R: That is a very, very good point. And it's my problem. It's not yours. Off you go. Leave it to me. Back to your own time.

P: No. (2)

R: Why not? What's to keep you?

P: Because I never, never, ever run away.

R: No, what we need is help. Help to dispose of the body elsewhere. But who? Who?

P: I don't know anyone. Not here. I know a few back home could do it.

R: Yes, of course. I do know someone. The very man. Yes!

P: Who are you calling?

R: Hell...I wonder if you could tell me - is Mr. Palmer still on duty...? Oh, splendid. I wonder if you'd mind paging him for me? It's Mrs. Welles in suite 647...Thank you so much...

P: Security? You're not getting bloody security up here?

R: Not any blood security. This one owes me. Hello...Mr. Palmer-Harold. It's Mrs. Welles. Suit 647, yes. Mr. Palmer, we have a most delicate problem up here that does require the utmost tact... I wonder if you could possibly help us? I would be most terribly grateful...Yes...Oh, would you?...thank you... That would be most kind... Bye. Appalling man. Right. Action. He'll be three minutes. Take that end.

P: What are you doing? What do you think you're doing?

R: Explain as we go. Come along, give me a hand. We have to move this off him.

P: I'm not moving that. He's staying under there.

R: If he stays under here, we can hardly pass it off as an accident, can we? Not even Harold Palmer's going to believe that the man just crawled under the sofa to die. Now do help, Phoebe. Trust me.

P: If he moves, I'm out of here, I tell you.

R: If he moves, I'm right behind you. Right. Whew. How on earth did you move this thing on your own?

P: Raw naked panic. Careful.

R: It's all right, he really is very, very dead. Could hardly be deader. Look at that...

P: Ugggghh!

R: Yes, good. No surface bleeding. All internal. Ought to fool Harold, anyway. Now, we have to drag him into the bedroom. Phoebe...

P: I can't. I can't touch him.

R: Phoebe! Phoebe, you're pathetic. You're just a feeble, sniveling little creature-

P: Don't call me that. You haven't-

R: What else are you, then? What else are you?

P: It's all right for you, you haven't been nearly bloody drowned, have you?

R: It's a pity he didn't make a better job of it. You little wimp!

P: You're asking for it, you know. You are really asking for it...you are going to get it in a minute, I don't care who you are...I've put people in hospital, you know, for that... You take that back. Nobody calls me that..

R: Right, I take it back. But you give me hand. If you've any strength at all.

P: I've got strength. Don't you worry. We'll soon see who's not got strength-

R: Careful! Don't damage him...Here!

P: You did that deliberately, didn't you? Got me angry?

R: Come on. Pull.

P: Right. Don't ever call me that again, though. I'm not a prude but I can't stand that word.

R: What, wimp, you mean?

P: Don't keep saying it!

R: Why not? It only means ineffectual. Useless. That's all.

P: Not where I come from, it doesn't.

R: What does it mean where you come from?

P: Never mind. Never you mind. I'm not repeating it.

R: Ok? One, two, three- Hup! Now we have to undress him and get him into bed...

P: Oh no...

R: Phoebe...

P: All right, all right, I know. Wimp! Wimp! Wimp! We're not getting in with him, are we?

R: Oh, Phoebe!

P: Sorry.

R: That'll be Harold. You'll have to do that on your own.

P: What? Undress him?

R: Yes.

P: Completely?

P: Of course completely. Come on, you've done it before, surely?