Matriarch

Level two.

Morning, Max.

Mornin', trouble.

- Bloody hell, Max.

It's an advert, not the Mona Lisa.

It's a pitch-winning

fucking masterpiece, my love.

Enough of that.

How was your weekend?

Fine. Just chilled.

Alone?

Yep. You?

Usual.

Dinner party on Saturday, hungover yoga on Sunday.

Living la vida mediocre.

Still got that cold?

Can't seem to shift it.

It seems like you've had it forever.

Jamie couldn't come to drinks on Friday.

I will come to drinks if we win it.

We will, and it'll be because of you.

Your cold though--

You know I'm always here if you wanna talk.

It's a cold, not cancer.

You should come out sometime.

Hang out with some humans.

You might like them.

Yeah.

Oh, for God's sake.

Can't you wait till you get inside?

He's hungry.

Babies need to feed.

And learn some bloody patience.

I didn't feed her whenever she opened her mouth.

Is she always like this?

- What? - I said, is she always like this?

- Jesus! What? What's she doing?

No, no, I didn't do anything.

She was breathing vodka all over him.

Did something die inside your mouth?

I've got mints somewhere. Here. Here.

Fuck off.

Mum, you okay?

Sorry, sorry.

Hey, gorgeous.

Yeah, I'm good. Thanks.

It hasn't been that long, has it?

Well, let's put that right, shall we?

Hey, Katrin. Do you wanna move in?

Sorry, what?

Do you wanna live with me?

As what?

A friend.

Girlfriend.

Whatever.

Which one?

Are you having a seizure?

It's from the end of a poem.

The Wanderer.

It's my dad's favorite, actually.

"Where everyone is not,

that's where happiness is."

Hey.

Where's this going, Laura?

Up my nose.

Unless you're offering to blow it up my asshole.

You know what? Um, it's late.

I mean, it's early.

I need to be at work in four hours.

It was nice to see you again.

Really nice.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

There's no point trying to sleep now.

Straight through crew.

You can do it.

Coffee is your friend.

Who's your friend, Laura?

Will you be my friend?

I just wish you could be--

- What, happy? - Yeah.

No one's fucking happy.

If people were happy, I wouldn't have a fucking job.

Wow. Alright.

I'll leave you to it.

Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck. Fu--

Oh, love, you look fucking awful.

I know.

Anything else?

No.

Except we only fucking won it.

The pitch.

Brilliant.

- Nice try. Come on, love, go on, we'll get you a cab.

- No, I-I've got work to do. I need to be here.

We can struggle on without you.

Seriously, you know that's not the culture here.

You're ill. Go home.

I'm a day behind.

I just wanna get on with it, please.

Please.

Hi.

What?

Are you sure that's what she said?

Yeah, yes, yes, I'm still here.

Tell her I'm out.

No, tell her I don't work here anymore.

Tell her I resigned last year, okay?

Be fucking crystal clear with her.

What?

Don't talk to me like that, please.

Sorry, Max, it's just...

I'm trying to do my job and I got my-my... fucking mother

calling me at work and then--

Your mother?

Your dead mother?

Uh, dead to me. Not actually dead.

Okay.

Oh, sorry.

Have I not kept you totally appraised of every aspect of my personal life?

You are my boss, after all.

Come on, Laura. I'm not just your--

What?

You must have a tissue in here.

Uh--

In my bag.

No, just leave it! Just let me--

Alright, enough.