House_of_Cards_1x01_-_Pilot

BRIAN (CONT’D)
I guess that’s a no.
ZOE
You’re really sweet, Brian. I’m
sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.
He looks dejected. She’s not going to let this turn into a
conversation.
ZOE (CONT’D)
Thanks again for inviting me. It
was wonderful.
(squeezes his hand)
Have a good night.
And she’s out of the cab. She throws one last glance back at
Brian, a pity glance. Then she’s off. Quick, clean,
relatively painless.
INT. ZOE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT.
The sound of keys, the bolt unlocking. The door opens and
Zoe enters. Tosses her purse on the bed (just a mattress on
the floor, no bed frame) and slips off her heels.
Goes to the fridge. It’s pretty empty - just yogurt, some old
take-out containers, an empty Britta. She grabs a yogurt.
Fishes a power bar out of a drawer. Heads over to her
computer - a laptop amidst of a sea of papers and notes. Her
desk is just a plywood board perched on cinder blocks.
She dips the power bar directly into the yogurt (no spoon) as
the computer screen jumps to life. Her fingers fly over the
keyboard. New window. Email. Password. Inbox. Mostly
work stuff. But there’s a new message at the very top:
FROM: Photogangsta@WashingtonHerald.com SUBJECT: Frank
Underwood ASS-WHIPPED.
She clicks on the message. A photo fills the screen: Francis
checking out Zoe’s ass when she passed him on the steps of
the Kennedy Center.
There’s text beneath the photo: If you want em to take you
seriously, maybe wear more than G-string?
Command N. New window. Keys punched at lightning speed.
Google Search. “Frank Underwood.” Wikipedia comes up.
Click. The words “House Majority Whip” stick out. Zoe
considers this for a moment. Clicks back to the other
screen. Looks at the photo. Hits reply. Types quickly:
31.