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[The sharp, repetative tapping of a finger on wood shows how impatient Elaine feels. Her camera is on her desk, facing her while she sits so that her eyes are off-screen. Her hand, however, is clearly visible, and she begins to drum her fingers on the polished wood. Five seconds of this... then ten, fifteen. She bites her lip. A sigh, and she brings her head down to rest on her arms, face turned toward the distant doorway. Past her hair you can see her eyes, staring at the door in a defeated way. Her gaze turns upwards toward the stack of books on the table (The Giver, Romeo and Juliet, Alice in Wonderland), then toward her iPod. She idly jabs at a few buttons. Eventually she takes one of the earphones, slipping it into her ear. At the same time, she happens to glance at the camera.]
[She blinks.]
[The view is jostled as she grabs the camera, a cautious smile growing on her face.] It's worki-!
[The feed times out.]
[She blinks.]
[The view is jostled as she grabs the camera, a cautious smile growing on her face.] It's worki-!
[The feed times out.]
