Billions

Previously on Billions...

The Olympic Games in 2028

are awarded to...

New York City.

My guess is,

somewhere inside this is a direct bribe of sorts.

A quid pro quo.

The Olympics.

You want to be on the performance coaching team.

To run it.

Use my talents to turn those athletes

into medal machines.

Done.

I can't stay. You can come with,

but I have to go back to the St. Regis to pack.

- Pack? - Before the Games,

I need to spend time in the mountains.

Yeah, but I thought we were going to try here. Us.

The Olympics mean something very different to me

than they do to you.

This is everything I ever worked for,

and I need you to do the work

and climb for the kiss.

Yes. You're right.

And I will.

Prince didn't pull this off

all by his lonesome.

So we separate Prince from his power base.

Let him fall like the smoke from the fireworks

drifting down on this fine city.

Prince, let's go. Wake up.

Get your shit on. Time to go.

How cold is it out there?

We're not doing that. Let's go, come on.

I guess that's why I hired Gabby Reece.

The worst thing that can happen

is a person gets comfortable,

and then they think the world is a comfortable place.

You have to be comfortable being uncomfortable.

You catch my drift? I mean, otherwise,

you would think, like, this pace is running.

But this is a jog.

Well, it's more like a walk.

It's a long run. It's not a sprint.

Life is a sprint. You just hope it's a long one.

When I do this for real,

when I run the original marathon route,

it'll remind people of doing hard things,

and the original meaning of the Games.

The original run into Athens was to bring a message

about a war that was finally won.

And the messenger, he died because his cardio was crap.

And you know what? You haven't won a damn war yet.

Come on! Pick it up!

- All right. - Okay, thanks.

There he is.

Good to see you, Mike. We saved a seat for you.

Good to see you.

Very impressive pace. Bravo.

I'm just trying to stay loose, turn my mind off.

It's the closest thing I know to meditation.

But this particular run has a higher purpose, doesn't it?

I want to celebrate what humans are capable of.

And, yes, when I do this run in the summer months

before the Games begin, I hope

thousands join me all around the world.

Millions, even, just to help welcome the Games

to New York City.

But that is the purpose

of the traditional run, right?

People all around the world

get to carry the torch to the destination.

But with you, it seems very personal.

You seem, some say, deeply invested,

maybe more than what people are comfortable with.

So here's a question:

what, if anything, are you trying to say about yourself?

And I ask that because these Games

are for all global citizens,

not just for Michael Thomas Aquinas Prince.

Well, Gayle, I could throw

the famous Roosevelt quote at you

about getting in the ring.

But instead, I'll give you some Dusty Rhodes.

Okay.

"Let me tell you something, Daddy.

"I am the bull of the woods, and it ain't my dream.

It's the American dream."

Now be careful you don't accidentally

get in the way of a bionic elbow.

Duly noted. And ouch.

Is that the purpose of the traditional run?

- That people all around... - Wow, look at that.

A couple of bona fide heroes, huh?

Split times are no joke.

Especially into mile eight.

Really?

And for Prince to stay with her...

that's no mean feat.

And the guy's got a day job

with pretty decent remuneration.

They ought to bottle his sweat

and sell it for a million dollars an ounce.

I'm surprised... shocked, really...

to see you succumb to the testosterone-infused

stylings of this guy.

You don't buy into him carrying the torch

for all of New York City, then?

Oh, yes, of course.

The great man carries the torch for us all.

Be a real shame if the bull of the woods

got his big run canceled and ended up hanging on a hook.

The question is, how?

What's the only thing worse than not getting what you want?

Getting what you want,

but having it ripped from your hands.

It's like I hired my own twin.

Anyone know what "sic 'em" actually means?

It's a command originating from the order for attack dogs

to seek, to pursue with lethal focus.

Now, if you own a great dog, a loyal dog,

a dog that would kill for you on that command,

as every person here would for each other,

you're very careful not to speak that command loosely.

You save those words for when the target is clear

and the moment is exactly right.

The rest of the time, you rein them in,

keep them fed but not full,

exercised and ready to go.

Now, why am I giving you this little canine chalk-talk?

Because the Olympic Games are going to present

an opportunity for maximal profits,

and so I want everyone here to free up some capital.

Sell off that which you've been holding on

for the same reason a college senior

holds on to her high school yearbook,

for sentiment and comfort.

And remember what it was like when the future was brighter

than a shiny red F-150.

When you say free up some capital...?

I mean sell the house, go west and find the gold

before the next guy does.

Games open a window for sure,

but I don't want to dump out of great shit

on some flyer.

To respectfully echo that concern,

maybe some of us could sit this one out.

I don't mind the bench.

Well, when you own dogs, you feed them all,

but you save the freshest meat for those that don't hesitate.

Find the best ways into new plays,

and I'll back your move with the main fund.

Targets will be transportation, recommendation apps,

keycard entry systems, personnel,

and hospitality start-ups.

Give Airbnb a good scare.

We're allocating based on performance.

- Whose book has done the best. - I'll be getting into...

Hold that thought. Philip get first pick.

He's outperformed everyone lately.

Thanks.

I'll take air travel,

aim to secure official airline sponsorship for the Games.

I already started working on Hypersonic,

a new high-tech passenger airline

that travels 3X the sound barrier.

I've done the research, and I'm in the process

of building a relationship with the CEO.

Good. You can put Philip in touch.

I'm happy to let Taylor go first if they want.

Take Hypersonic, I can see you're emotionally invested.

I'll go with self-driving cars instead.

Similar sponsorship opportunities.

But next time I get first pick, I'll be taking it.

No sympathy.

Okay.

Divvy up the rest.

Now, where my dogs at?

Sic 'em!

I don't think I've ever actually seen

a rich, powerful man enjoy it before.

Moments like this, if you don't actually enjoy it,

what's the darn point?

Where do you go when you need to breathe a little?

I have a wonderful library on the first floor of my duplex.

Great old 78 player.

And a 60-year-old Speyside single malt.

But your family's there.

That makes it all the more pleasant.

Shit.

Hit me with the real of it.

I'm moving in with Chelz, my girl,

and she wants me to get rid of my rooms at the Pierre.

I want to make her happy, but I can't do it, not yet.

I'll move out and in with her,

but I can't actually let the suite go.

So I was thinking you could let me put them under your name.

I'd pay, of course, off the books.

For a host of reasons, primary among them

that I don't believe this serves you or your relationship,