Interior of Rick and Nance's bedroom. They are in bed. As last scene of "Medium" flickers to a close and endless litany of pre-news commercials begins, Nance shifts to pre-sleep comfort position in which she lies on her side facing Rick in fetal position, bony knees jabbing into his side, shins carefully touching him for warmth. Slyly, she slides the remote control onto his chest, thereby abdicating all responsibility for volume, sleep-timing, and anything else television-related should they not make it through the entire newscast. Again.
Rick: (sighs, then suddenly draws his breath in with a sharp gasp as if in pain)
Nance: What!? What!? What did I do?
Rick: (with real effort) Nothing! I have a terrible cramp in my foot! OW!
Nance: Well, geeze! I thought it was something really horrible the way you were acting.
Rick: Nance, this really hurts!
Nance: I'm sorry. I'm sure it does. What should I do?
Rick: It's almost gone now. God! That's just horrible. It would be nice if you would rub my foot.
Nance: (look of revulsion) It's not like you can't just pop down there and reach it yourself.
Rick: (look of pained amusement) I would rub yours, you know. I have rubbed yours. And not because they hurt, either. Just because I'm a nice guy.
Nance: I know, and that's very nice of you. Thank you.
Rick: What if I was dying? What if I was dying, and the only way to save my life was for you to rub my feet? Then what?
Nance: (pause) Then that would be rough. You might die--
Rick: (incredulous, interrupts) You have got to be kidding me! Are you telling me right now that if I was dying--
Nance: (interrupts, calmly) You didn't let me finish. I was going to say if they let me wear gloves or put plastic baggies on my hands, then I would do it. This isn't fair. You know how I hate feet.
Rick: No. No. No plastic bags or gloves. It has to be bare hands or I die. That's just the way it is for some reason. Now what?
Nance: (pause) Now you're just making shit up to piss me off. I would try probably. I would try, but you might die. There. Why do you insist on making me say things that just end up hurting you in the long run. Now turn off the tv and go to sleep. We've missed the weather.