Hell hath NO fury.

(three knocks at the door of Sam's dorm room)

Craig: Sam? Are you home?

Sam: Yes, I'm over here.

Craig: Uhm, babe... when did you become agoraphobic?

Sam: Huh? Oh, I've just been working on this paper for my political science seminar.

Craig: In your closet?

Sam: Touche.

Craig: Let's go. I'm taking you out.

Sam: But I need to finish my paper.

Craig: Really? Because the calender here on your desk says that your seminar was yesterday. What are you doing in your closet?

Sam: I'm looking for something... (papers rustle) I can't go out right now. I'll call you later.

Craig: Wait, what? Just come out here. What's going on?

Sam: Ugh, nothing. I'm just busy.

Craig: Really? Because when your eyes tear up at the sight of me the word "busy" doesn't really register to me. Come on. Just tell me what's going on.

(Beginning to cry)

Sam: I saw you Craig. I saw you kiss her, and wrap your arms around her. I thought you only looked at me that way, but apparently not.

(Becoming angry)

You've been lying to me. I know there's another girl!

Craig: Yeah Sam, it's you.

Sam: What are you talking about?!

Craig: Felicetti and I have been together for two years now. And you and I have only been together for nine and a half months; you're the other girl.

Sam: What? You're cheating on her with me?!?!

Craig: Yes, but I'm with you because I care about you.

Sam: More than her?

Craig: Well...uh, not exactly. But that doesn't mean I don't care about you.

Sam: I cannot believe you're saying this to me. Why would you tell me that you're in love with me if you're not?

Craig: Because I thought I was in love with you. I just didn't know what love was, and then I realized that it's what I have with Felicetti.

Sam: You broke my heart Craig. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Craig: Sam, please, don't. I'm sorry for everything that I've put you through, but please don't tell her.

Character Interaction: Wally & Liam

"Goddamn it." I hear a guy say from behind me. I wasn't paying attention to what was going on, but I suppose I should have. The elevator had stopped and the guy behind me cursing profusely, it sounds like he had somewhere to be. I don't mind really, but he doesn't look too happy.

A speaker in the wall dings and crackles a bit before a voice comes on saying "Maintenance is on it's way, you're in no danger, but it could take anywhere from ten minutes to two hours. Thank you for your patience and there is no need to panic." The speaker clicks off and I look at the guy standing behind me.

"Well, I'm Liam." I drop my bag and slide down the wall, sitting abruptly. "I suppose I'm not going to make it to class today." I try making conversation but he just glares at me and pulls out his phone. I begin to type away on my laptop when he sits down on the elevator floor as well. He looks disturbingly angry. He pulled out a notebook and began to write endlessly in it. "Uh, what are you writing there?" I ask him with curiosity, but he continues to write before lifting his head.

"It's a story." He says bluntly in a monotone and I stare in confusion. He lowers his head and continues to write. Well, I don't have to make friends when being trapped in an elevator, do I? Of course not. So, I put my headphones in and listen to my music very loud and obnoxiously.

Character Sketch

It must be six o’clock. My feet don’t want to move, it’s too cold; I’m so comfortable. But okay, I’m up. Shower time. The water’s hot, the best way to have it and I’m falling asleep all over again, probably shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night massacring all those zombies. Okay, condition and I’m done.
Damn, it’s raining again, why did I move here? It’s rained every day since I’ve been here. But of course, time for work, I’ll take a cab today because there’s no time for the bus. My eyes are red and there are dark circles surrounding them... stupid zombies. I wonder if that cute intern is going to be in today, I should probably learn her name.
Not bad, 6:30, hair looks good; all short and soft, so glad I cut it, that intern isn’t going to know what hit her. Jeans are frowned upon at the office, but I won’t be there all day so too bad. Pinstripe dress-shirt and I’m done. And now to call the cab, which is so much more different than just hailing one. But it’s taking forever; I probably could have waited upstairs in my flat and watched out the window, rather than in this cold, damp lobby. “Mr. Etelle?” my name sounds funny when said with an accent, “Your mail is here.” I grab it and stuff it in my bag when I hear a weak horn honk from outside and I thank the old man behind the front desk. Running out into the rain I yank my coat over my head to save my hair from disaster. I jump into the back of the cab; success, its still intact.
“Studio Eight, on St. Adams Street” I demand from the driver and she turns her head to give me a look before pulling out into the street.
“Not from around here?” she asks, but I only hear her faintly because I have my headphones in. “Where you from?”
“Oh, uh, London” I say, and cut her off before she gets excited, “Ontario.”
“Oh, well then. You’re a little far from home, huh?”
“Huh?” I respond, not actually caring what she’s talking about. She turns and pretends to have said nothing, as I shove my other headphone in my left ear. Pulling up to the gates, I hand her £8 and say thanks as I jump out and slam the door behind me.