At 2:14 the friends hold a table for two with one plate, one bowl of soup, and a strict no-performing rule, while the man who collects them has to order like a person.
Ross
Source(capping the pen, writing the header) S01/E14 closed at fifty-one — one plate, one lamp, one notebook still missing. S01/E15: "The One With the Table for Two." Two-fourteen, a table for two, the only copy of Mon's soup, and six people refusing to do their thing.
Chandler
Source(on the floor behind the register with his own mug, whispering) Six of us, one lamp, two chairs — we're not staking out a table, we're casting it. (beat) Nobody performs tonight, so I'll go first: break the ice, take the hit, hand over my own name. I've done it at every job interview.
Phoebe
Source(sitting very still at the table for two, guitar flat on her lap) Two-fourteen. Nobody's singing, nobody's serving, and Joe hasn't touched a breadstick. (beat) So why is the empty chair already warm?
Joey
Source(grabbing the second chair before anyone else can, sitting) Two-fourteen, table for two, and I'm one of the two. (beat) (low voice, to the empty chair) "Evening. You're the soup, right?"
Phoebe
Source(tapping the chair under Joey with her foot) Joe, that chair was warm before you sat in it. (beat) So either the stranger's already here, or you need to see somebody about that.
Monica
Source(plate down, napkin squared, then a flat hand on the seat) No dent, no crumbs, no coat smell. (beat) He's careful. So the first spoon waits until he says his name.
Rachel
Source(pencil behind her ear, one muffin on the one plate) Two-fourteen, and I'm on the clock — the best thing I've been all year. (beat) He talks to the waitress first. That's not performing, that's ordering.
Chandler
Source(crouching, palm flat on the seat, then standing slowly) Phoebs, that's not a warm chair, that's a recently vacated one. (beat) So either our guy stepped out when the lamp came on, or we've got a second person. Somebody count the breadsticks.
Joey
Source(kneeling beside the chair, hand flat on the seat, quiet like a cop show) "Warm. No coat. No name." (beat) (standing) So it's official — the guy's been sitting in my part.
Phoebe
Source(freezing, one hand up) Shh. Nobody move. (beat) Somebody under this table is humming my song — and it's not the fridge this time.
Joey
Source(flat on the floor, one eye under the tablecloth) Beige coat. Little notebook. (beat) He's under here, Phoebs, and he's finishing my breadstick.
Ross
Source(one knee on the floor, ear against the tabletop, whispering) Sound doesn't come up through a tableboard in a straight line — I've measured it at home. (beat) So he's not under here. He's close, and he's been close all night. (beat) Phoebs, sing the second line. If he finishes it, we've got him.
Chandler
Source(standing over Joey, hands on hips) Joe. You were nose-to-nose with a stranger, and you filed a report on the breadstick. (beat) (offering him a hand) Up. Somebody get the light, and let's all say hi to the beige coat.
Rachel
Source(lifting the one plate, napkin over one arm, drifting toward the back door) Ross, harmony's your department. (beat) I'm the one holding food — and waitress rules say the order walks to the customer.
Phoebe
Source(singing) "One plate, one tune —" (beat) (to the table) That was my second line, and you just finished it. (lifting the tablecloth) Come out and do the harmony in person.
Joey
Source(up, brushing crumbs off his shirt) Beige sleeve, notebook, breadstick — I know what I saw. (beat) (following Rachel) Rach, if he orders, get me the same thing.
Monica
Source(reaching past Rachel, flipping the alley light on) I left that light on for him. (beat) All right, beige coat — you've got one plate and thirty seconds of my patio.
Phoebe
Source(dropping the tablecloth) Under the table: one breadstick, no baritone. (beat) (following Rachel) Rach, if he's outside, I'm going first — he came to my gig, so he's my weirdo.
Chandler
Source(pushing the back door open with one finger, hanging back behind everyone) I'm not going out there first, I'm going out there fifth. (beat) If he's holding a mug with my name on it, I want witnesses.
Phoebe
Source(opening the alley door, then freezing) Guys. The coat's on the hook, and there's nobody in it. (beat) Which means our beige weirdo is inside — without his costume.
Chandler
Source(turning slowly, scanning the room over the rim of his mug) So he's in here, looking like a person. (beat) Everybody check who you came in with, and somebody tell me Gunther's been at that counter all night.
Ross
Source(turning slowly, counting on his fingers twice) Six of us. One coat on the hook with nobody in it. Two doors, both watched. (beat) So we're missing exactly one person and one breadstick. (beat) Beige, no coat — you've got one plate and one song left. Come collect.
Joey
Source(standing, pulling a small notebook out from under him on the chair) Wait. I sat on this. (beat) Chan, is this the notebook? Because I never wrote in it — I don't write.
Phoebe
Source(pointing at the notebook in Joey's hands) That's him — he wrote in that through all three of my subway sets and never clapped. (beat) Last page, Joe. I want to know what I said.
Chandler
Source(taking the notebook by one corner, opening it flat under the lamp) Joe, if this is his, then he's got all six of us written down in here. (beat) (turning to the last page) Six pages used, one page blank, dated tomorrow. So he's not done with us.
Joey
Source(both hands out for the notebook) Mine first. (beat) And if it says "guy at a table," that's my part — I've been doing it since Tuesday.
Phoebe
Source(pointing at the notebook) Three sets of my songs, and you never clapped once. (beat) Fine — read Joe's page. I'm not speaking to you till you apologize.
Chandler
Source(flipping back to the front, holding the notebook where both of them have to lean in) Guess which page he filed in front of A. (beat) Phoebs, you're first — be flattered. Joe, you're second — be furious. And please be furious in order.
Ross
Source(pulling the notebook square under the lamp, one finger up) Nobody reads out of order — he's filed us one to a page, and collectors label their specimens. (beat) Alphabetically. (beat) Which, for the record, puts me sixth, and I'm fine with that.
Phoebe
Source(taking the notebook, reading her page) First before A. So I'm the appetizer. (beat) (softening) Guys, this isn't a collection — he's applying for a table.
Rachel
Source(plucking the plate off the counter, carrying it to the empty table for two) Applying for a table? I'm the waitress, so I do the interview. (beat) (setting the soup down, draping the beige coat over the other chair) Name, order, and how you take your coffee.
Joey
Source(snapping the notebook over, reading his page, then looking up slowly) "Guy at a table. Doesn't know he's in a scene." (beat) That's the meanest thing anybody's ever written about me, and I've read my own reviews.
Phoebe
Source(patting Joey's arm) Joe, he's saying you're the only one who's never acting. (beat) From him, that's a rave.
Monica
Source(palm out for the notebook, towel still in the other hand) One Geller page for two Gellers, so we read it together, Ross. (beat) And if he wrote one word about my soup, he eats the rest of it standing up.
Joey
Source(wiping one eye, then holding the notebook up like an award) Never acting. (beat) I'd like to thank Phoebs's subway set — without it, none of this happens.
Phoebe
Source(borrowing Rachel's pencil, opening tomorrow's blank page) He left us a blank page. That's an RSVP. (beat) (writing) "Table for two. We'll bring the other five."
Ross
Source(dragging his stool next to hers, reading over her shoulder) Together. You're older, you read first. (beat) But the part about me gets read exactly as written — I know how you summarize.
Rachel
Source(taking her pencil back and printing under Phoebe's line) An RSVP needs a time and a real table. (beat) Two-fourteen tomorrow, table for seven. (beat) He orders when he sits, and he tips.
Chandler
Source(handing the notebook back to Joey, dry) Joe, "doesn't know he's in a scene" is also what every good critic wrote about Brando. (beat) (taking it back, angling the page so nobody can read over his shoulder) Mine's under C — the letter I've spent my whole life dodging. (beat) (reading, quieter) "Sits at the end of the couch. Makes a joke, then watches the room." (beat) (closing it) So Phoebs is right: he's not collecting us, he's been studying us. Long enough to notice the one thing I do that I never talk about. (beat) (sliding the notebook to the center of the table, pen down on the blank page) Last page is dated tomorrow, so tomorrow we answer him — notebook open, one plate, one chair out. If he writes his name, Mon cooks. If he doesn't, we're the ones who said no. I'd rather be the guy who said no than the guy still applying. And I've been both.
Phoebe
Source(drawing a little music note under Rachel's seven) Seven at two-fourteen. (beat) And he sings the harmony — no hiding behind the notebook.
Monica
Source(reading aloud, one finger tracing the line) "Geller, M. — feeds five, keeps score." (beat) Nothing about the soup, so tomorrow he gets a bowl and a written review of his own.