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.

The fate of a glorious party balances tenuously on the fine tip of Dorothy's moral compass. A series of concerned mentors guide her not toward the right goal, but backward and forward, leaving her torn and confused. In the end, the truth - long withheld - will rip away Dorothy's doubt and send her careening towards a well-intended disaster.

My......... friend, yes he is still my friend, even if he thinks I am not his. My friend has gone out walking. He's been doing that... more and more. Sometimes I feel like... something went awry, in the universe. Something feels terribly inevitable about the escalating chasm between us. Terrible and inevitable. Maybe, in a sense, this is what was meant to happen. Yet... I don't know. I hope he comes back soon.