Game, Set, Match
Everything is bullshit, so who cares. That's not very professional, my friend. Fine. Connie drinks coffee. Portia wanders off. Dorothy and whatshername... That's awful. What happened to your flow, your rhythms, your ambition! It's as if... As if we never met? Yeah. They wish. They're splitting us back up. We're getting too "involved". "Too informal." What? But that's... I don't understand. Whatever. Who cares. I've got along this fine without friends. I can go back to it. But... I think we both were getting better. Together. Oh. He's left. I'm alone now. I guess... Tensions peek over the surface of the water, like the tip of... a very deep, very cold iceberg, its depths unknowable. Victory is joyous but fleeting, and may by Pyrrhic in its costs to morale. Attempts to solve one crisis inevitably deepen another. And... I guess... that's enough for this episode.
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