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- Thanks for the ride!

- Morning, Henry.

- Dr. Fox.

Good
morning, Dr. Fox.

- Hey, Celia.

- Lucius.
- How's everyone doing today?

- Well, Gully's in a mood.
- Hold the front page.

How are the new goggles

holding up?

- They work.

But I look like a welder.

- We'll work on that.

- Hi, there.

- Yeah.

- 'Scuse me.

Got to take a look
at your servo-motors.

Make sure those
suckers are still

A... o... kay.

So how's things?

- Oh, I'm sad, Lucius.

Very sad.

- I'm sorry to hear
that. Maybe I can help.

Why are you sad?

- You ever been in love?

- A catch-all term
for a multitude

of nebulous mental states.

Well, I suppose
the answer's yes.

- I've been in love.

Long time ago, mind you.

This here is...

This is a place without love.

You are loved by millions.

- A national hero.

- Then why...

why do you keep down here
underground then, huh?

- You know why.

- Can't breathe down here.

Fresh air, that's... ha.
Yeah, that's what I need.

I need some fresh air...

- What you're
breathing right now...

Cleanest air in the
world, actually.

I built the A/C system myself.

- No, you built a cage, Fox.
You built a... a fucking cage.

I'm sick of it, and
fucking sick of you.

- This facility was built for
your comfort and protection.

- I don't need protection.

Oh, I just need to
get out of here.

What the bloody hell
am I doing here anyway?

- Whoa... hold on now.
- No.

- Gully. Gully!

Gully, tell me
where you wanna go

and I'll clear it
with the PM's office

and assemble a travel team.

- I don't need a
fucking travel team.

- It's just protocol.
For everyone's safety.

You know regular folks
can get scared of you.

- Well, fuck 'em then.

Fuck 'em.

- Copy that, but unfortunately,

the eye scanner won't
allow anyone without access

up to the street.

Goodbye, Dr. Fox.

- At least tell me
when you'll be back.

- I'm not coming back.

- Fudge!

Ahh...

- Get out, get out!

- Martha Kane for
Prime Minister Aziz.

When's he back?

Okay.

Thanks.

Hello?

Sam?

Mrs. Pennyworth's here.

Hi, Mrs. P.
- Good morning.

- Oh, um, it's nothing.

- Mrs. P!
- Here she is! Shiny button.

- Now, you guys have
a great day, huh?

- We'll meet you at
the park later, okay?

Be good for Mrs. P. Yeah?

- I will.
- All right. Mm.

- You'd better.
- Bye, Mummy, bye, Daddy.

- Careful on the
steps, sweetheart.

- Mrs. P, are we gonna
do something fun?

- We need to talk.

- What time did you
get home last night?

- It was late.

- I guess you... you what?

You... you ran into a door?

- Yeah.

Something like that.

It's just a bump.

- Some desk job.

- Thomas...

I haven't been honest with you.

And I'm sorry. I really am.

- You're sorry?

For leading a
secret double life?

For risking your life?
For deceiving me?

For betraying our marriage?
- I didn't betray our marriage.

- Yes, you did.

And now what?

How are we supposed
to move forward

if I can't trust you
to tell me the truth?

- Want some truth, Thomas?

Your father is neck-deep
in some serious trouble.

- What are you talking about?

- You already know, don't you?

He told you what
he's doing here.

- And what if he did?
What's your involvement?

- But why would he tell you?

Because he wants your help.

- He didn't want my
help. He wanted yours.

And I told him no.

- You did?

- The point is We're married.

We're supposed to
trust each other.

And listen to us.

- Okay, here's what I know.

Wayne Enterprise and the
CIA are here in London

testing a new drug,

only something's
gone badly wrong.

People are getting killed.

And that's why your
father's here, right?

- Something like that.
- So what's gone wrong?

Thomas. You might
as well tell me.

As soon as Aziz gets
back from Paris,

I'm briefing him on all this.

- The doctor that developed
the drug has gone AWOL.

- Glubb.
- Right.

And my father wants to
find him... that's all.

He's done nothing wrong.

Nothing... criminal,
technically.

- Okay, well, then he's
got nothing to fear.

- Jessica Thistle was
shot and killed last night

after going on a second

blood-splattered killing spree,

this one at the residence
of the singer Sandra Onslow.

The police haven't released
the names of anyone involved

or how Miss Thistle came
to be at the singer's flat.

Miss Thistle was
seen as an example

of the escalating
drug use and depravity

of today's youth
after she gruesomely

and brutally stabbed
her parents to death,

Sir Arnulf and Lady Annabel,

who are being laid to rest
today in a private ceremony.

And now, the surprising
controversy erupting over

the gold medal winner...
- Result.

Didn't even mention us.

Looks like we're in
the clear for this one.

Bravo, Mr. Aziz, for once.

- Yeah.

- You okay?

- Been a long time since
I've killed a woman.

- Hmm. Never pleasant.

- Feels like I've
done something wrong.

- There's always
gonna be cock-ups.

It's nobody's fault.
- Ah.

It was me that
brought her there.

Poor wee hen didn't even
know what she was doing.

- And you did what you
had to do. Enough said.

- Cheers.

- Says in the paper

she was an evil hippie drug
fiend filled with hatred.

That's not bloody fair, is it?

- Well, she did stab
up several people.

Maybe we misjudged her.

- That was the drugs
that made her do it.

She was a fine young woman.

It's not fair, dragging her
name through the mud like that.

- She's brown bread,
Daveboy. She doesn't mind.

What about her family, eh?

Hearing all that shite?

- Oh, forget about it, mate.

Nobody believes what
they read in the papers.

- Lucius Fox for you.

- Tell him I'm not here.
- I did.

Says he knows you're sitting
in the bar with Daveboy.

- I fucking knew he had
cameras in here somewhere.

Did I not tell you that?

- Have you got cameras in here?

- Of course I do. Never
mind that. It's Gully.

He took off.

- Well, it's a lovely day out.

He's entitled.
- Well, that's all very well.

But what if he goes rogue?

- Well, he's bound
to eventually.

Stands to reason.

- We need your help
to bring him in.

Quickly and quietly.

- Sorry. Had a bit
of a long night.

The only thing I'm doing
today is having a nice kip.

We know where he is.

You should be home
in a few hours.

Easy money.

If he's in London or the
home counties, you're on.

- Jackpot's betting
shop in Hackney, okay?

- Yeah.

Gully's gone AWOL.

Gotta fetch him home.

- How is Captain
Blighty our problem?

- He's not. It's just a job.

- What about solving
the Thistle case?

- The Thistle case? Hmm.

You discovered any
clues, Miss Marple?

- Aye, fucking boatloads.
- Yeah, like what?

- Well, all that stuff that
Martha said about the drugs

and the CIA covering
their tracks

by killing the fake nanny...

- By Jove, Holmes. I think
you've cracked the case.

- Oh, fuck off. It's a clue.

- Yeah, a clue best left to MI5.

I'm not fucking
about with the CIA,

not for half an unpaid invoice.

- And what about justice?

- And you call me soft?

Not for justice neither,
and certainly not

with a good paid
collection job on the go.

- Well... I'm not
up for a job today.

- I wasn't asking you.

Get some sleep.
I'll call you later.

- You... you want another?

- Well, I'm here, aren't I?

- Morning.

Thought you'd be at work.

- I told them I'd be late.

- Thought I'd call that
man you recommended today.

See if he can round up
this missing employee.

Put all this behind us.

- I doubt Alfred
can fix this now.

Why's that?

- Martha knows about
Operation Lullaby State.

And the CIA.

And you. She's putting
it all together.

- You told her?

- She knew.

She's going to the prime minster

as soon as he gets
back from Paris.

- Christ.

- Let's get ahead
of this thing, Dad.

Let's go to the
English government

and tell them what we know.
- What?

- They can help you
track down this guy.

The, uh, the doctor.

- You think the English
government is just gonna

turn him over to me
once they have him?

Not a chance.

Has Martha told anyone
else about this?

- I doubt it.

She reports directly to Aziz.

- Well, that's
something, I guess.

- What's going on, Dad?

What are you not telling me?

- Nothing.

- On your mother's grave,
I've told you everything.

- Okay.

Then go to the authorities
before they come to you.

- No.

Not an option.
- Dad.

- No.

Let me call the shots, son.

Right now we need to be family.

I need to know that
you're in my corner.

- Uh-huh.

I'm in your corner.

- Thanks. Means a lot.

Maybe one day that'll
be a corner office

in Wayne Tower.

- Hey.
- Morning, all.

What's he carrying?
- He has a crate of whiskey.

Several hostages. And
two days' battery charge.

- Whiskey? That's not good.

- I'm sure you
can talk him down.

He always speaks
very highly of you.

- Did he mention
I fucked his wife?

- He does mention that.

But in a philosophical
sort of way.

Mostly.

- So you want me to go in there

for my regular fee

and extract a sad
drunk with a death ray

who has every reason
to despise me?

- That's classy, Alfred.

Using your sordid love
life to gauge a pay rise.

- If I was married
to a billionaire,

I'd have much more class.

- Ha ha ha!
- Ouch.

- Touché.

Okay, give me a number.
- Double.

- Go get him. Try
to make it quick.

- Any ideas?
- Yes.

His suit has a kill switch.

- I'm not gonna kill him.
- No.

It's a small switch at the
base of the neck plate.

Press it, and you'll
cut his power.

His guns'll go off line, and
he won't be able to move.

But he'll be fine.

- Does he know about the switch?

- 'Fraid so.

Now, he'll be fine for
about five minutes.

Then we'll need to plug him in
to this baby for a recharge.

- Or else what?
- He'll die.

- Oh, good to know.

I'll get on with it then.
- Thank you.

- I'll fire up the bio-charges.

Martha.

When Thomas came to
see me yesterday,

he had Samantha with him.

But my mum said she
was working yesterday.

- Why would she say that?

- I think she might
be seeing a man.

I was wondering if
she'd said anything.

- Switch. Behind the
neck. Don't overthink it.

Can't risk any
civilian casualties.

- Gully, it's Alfie.
I'm coming in.

- Alfie.

Come on in, son.

Come and have a drink with me.

- All right,
Gull? Been awhile.

- Yeah, someone fetch
my old friend here

a bottle, will you?

A drink for my friend.

- Thanks, mate.

- I, uh...

I thought they might call you.
- Oh, yeah? Why's that?

- Someone they thought
that I could trust.

- Hmm.
- Someone who could get close.

You want me to turn around?

Make it easy for you?

- When have you ever made
things easy for me, Gully?

- So what's this all about then?

- Why'd you run off?
- Ohh...

I'm a wretched bloody
serf, aren't I?

Bound to my master's land

and the whims of a
rotting nobility.

I wanted freedom.

- I don't blame you
for going doolally,

the way you have to live.

But on the bright side,
you're Captain Blighty.

People love you.

- Yeah, that's what
they say, isn't it? Hah.

Not true though.

No, they... they're
scared of me.

- Of course they're scared,
the way you carry on.

I mean, look around.

- But on the plus side,
there's a lot of love there.

When you're not being a cunt.

- Cheers.

- You know, this man
here, he fucked my wife.

- Steady on. Water
under the bridge, eh?

- Fucked my wife.

And came this
close to killing me

with a sharpened
stick right here.

You know what?

He's the only friend I've got
in the whole bloody world.

- Who said I'm your friend?

- You are my friend.

Aren't you, Alfie?

- Of course I am.

Come any closer...

I'm gonna have to
stick a very small hole

right through your temple.

Fair play.

- Ahh.

Sorry. Where are my manners?

Please yourself.

What about you, miss?

- No, thank you.

- You wouldn't be a Thistle?
- No.

- You point them out to me?

Ah.

Thank you. Noted.

- You don't know the Thistles?

- No.

- So why are you here?

- I'm here for Jessica.
- You knew Jessica?

- I did.

- What a terrible,
horrible tragedy.

- It's horrible.

It's not my fault.

I had no choice.

- I'm sorry?

- No, I'm sorry. I'm,
uh, raving and...

A wee bit under the weather.

- All rise.

- What do you know
about pharmacology?

- A little. Why?

- Do you think a drug
could make someone kill?

For someone who didn't want to?

- Sure. I guess it's possible.

But I've never heard
of anything like that.

What does Thomas say?
- Thomas?

Oh.

You know doctors.
Too much jargon.

Couldn't understand
half of what he said.

- That's doctors for you.

- No offense.
- None taken.

- I have to meet
Sam and Mrs. P.

But, um, you can handle
it from here, right?

- Sure. Alfie'll come through.

Always does.
- I'll check in with you later.

- Lucius, do not get married.

- You ever thought
of children, Alfie?

- Thought of them?
- Mm.

- Yeah.

Not much, but I have
thought of them.

- I always wanted children.

A proper family, you know?

- You're not a
domestic animal, Gully.

- Oh?
- There's no shame in that.

Homes and gardens,
settees and doilies.

Not your purview.

- Well...
- that's you talking.

- I daresay.

- No. You know,
Melanie didn't love me.

That was the problem.

I couldn't make her love me.

- That was a long time ago,
eh? Best look to the future.

- She loved you though.

- A passing infatuation.

- What was it

that she saw in you

that... that she
didn't see in me?

- Gully, that was
a long time ago.

- Oh, come on.

Come on. Tell me.

- All right.

I didn't get drunk all the time.

I didn't beat her.

- Oh.

Mm.

Good to know.

- Is that what
this is all about?

Melanie?
- I miss her.

- Oh.

- In fact,

when I finish this bottle,

I'm gonna watch the
two ten at Catterick.

And then I'm gonna commandeer
myself a big, bloody ship,

go to America, and find her.

- You once told me that a
good soldier faces facts.

- Yeah.

- Well, face the facts, Gully.

The government aren't
letting you go to America.

You're a valuable bit of
kit. A national asset.

They'd sink your bloody ship

before they let the Yanks
or anyone else have you.

- I can't carry
on like this, I...

I got to escape somehow.

- Yeah, fair play.
I don't blame ya.

Why don't we go
back to Fox's place?

Give yourself a
while to come up with

a better plan than this
lark.

- Yeah.
- Oh, fuck. Banville Lady.

At 50 to 1, I had her!

I'd be fucking minted. Minted.

If not for Captain Assface.
- Oi.

Show some respect.
- What did you call me, sir?

- You're an assface car battery.

- Bollocks.

- Watch it.

How dare you.

Oh... ooh...

- Oof.
- Good riddance.

- Had to be done.

- I'm beginning to suspect

that you're not quite
as good a friend

as I thought you w...

- Sorry, Gull.

Come on, then.

- Hang on a sec.
Where you going?

- Fuck's sake, mate.
First you want him out.

Now you want him to
stay. Which is it?

- He cost me a sure thing.
Now he can pay us back.

- How's that?
- Well, that suit

must be worth some serious dosh.

Leave it, and you can go.

- Oh, give over.

This is Captain bloody
Blighty. National hero.

He's having a bad
day. We all have them.

- Fuck him.
- Shame on you.

Where's your patriotism?

Where's your compassion?
- Right here.

- All right, calm down, lads.

Thank you... augh!

Ah!

- Okay. I need a... a...

- Easy, mate.

No need for that.
- No need? No need?

50 to 1!

- Bloody horses are a
mug's game, aren't they?

One day you're up,
the next you're down.

Premium Bonds is the thing...

Ah!

- Close your mouth. Come on.

- Pretty high!
- Mrs. P!

- Mrs. P,

did you tell Alfie you
were working yesterday?

- That boy doesn't know
when to let things lie.

Yes, I did.

That's what I told him.
- Okay.

- It was a lie.

- Okay.

- I was seeing a man.

- Wow.

Tell me everything.

No, I mean, if you want to.

Only if you want
to. I won't pry.

Actually, I will pry. But
you can tell me to shut up.

I know how it is to
have a secret life.

Have to have something
for yourself, right?

- Mm-hmm.

I, uh...

There was an advertisement
in the paper.

- The Lonely Hearts?

My God, that's so brave.

- I wish they
wouldn't call it that.

"Lonely Hearts."
It sounds so sad.

- No, it doesn't.

You're taking action.

Taking control of your own life.

So how was it? Who'd you meet?

- You won't tell
anyone, will you?

- No, Mary, no. Of course not.

- We met at nice tea rooms.

Good cakes. Adequate tea.

The gentleman seemed
amiable enough.

Till, bold as brass,

he said "carpe diem."

- What does that mean?
- Mm, well, you may well ask.

You're too well brought up,
Martha, so you wouldn't know.

It means, "What about a
bit of how's your father?"

- Whose father? I
don't understand.

- He asked me to go
to a hotel with him

and have S-E-X.

Okay.

- Did you?
- Stop it!

Of course, I didn't.

- You didn't? You
swear? Come on.

- No! I swear.

Would never do that.

- Did you want to?
- No.

- Not even a little bit?

- Well...

Maybe a little bit.
- I knew it.

- Out of curiosity.

You know, more than lust.

I've only ever
been with one man.

I always wondered
if it was different

with different men.

- Uh, yes. You bet it is.

- I suspected as much.

- Mary, don't let one
bad date stop you.

You deserve to be happy.

- Mummy, mummy, I'm
going on the slide!

- Things were so much simpler

back when I met Alfie's father.
- Mummy, look!

- How long were
you two married.?

- 28 years.

- What's the secret?

- Hm.
- Look, Mummy!

- Respect.

You're husband and wife,
for better or worse.

Everything else is just
what passes the time.

- I'll go get her
stuff packed up.

- Mrs. Wayne.

- Yes?

- My name is Dr. Robert Glubb.

We need to talk.

- Not here.

There's a pub in the East End

called the Queen Anne's Revenge.

Meet me there in half an hour.

- Is he okay?

- I need to run a full
diagnostic to be sure,

but yeah, I think we got
him plugged in just in time.

- He wants to go to America.

To find Melanie.
- Oh, wow.

Good.
- Good? How?

He's never going.
Aziz'd never allow it.

And even if he did, I mean,
look at the state of him.

- Can hear you.

- Sorry, Gull.

Didn't mean anything by it.

- Don't be.

It's true. Look at me.

I'm not a man.

I'm a household appliance.

- I'm listening.

- Tell Aziz he can have
me and the lullaby drug

for the right price.

- Well, first I need to know
you are who you say you are.

I'm
Dr. Glubb all right.

- Convince me.

- I used to work for
your father-in-law.

I developed a completely new

and extremely effective
class of drug.

Psycho-kinetics.

Now I want to sell my
expertise on the open market,

Wayne Enterprises and the
CIA are out to kill me, okay?

I'm Dr. Glubb.

No one else wants to be me.

- You killed that CIA officer?

- I regret that.

It's unavoidable.

I had to get away from him.

- Okay. Let's
assume you're Glubb.

So why are you coming to us now?

- My original buyer was
murdered to stop the deal.

There's not many other
buyers who can afford me.

- That original buyer would
be Sir Arnulf Thistle?

- Yes.

Are you interested or not?

- What's the right price?

- I need $5 million a year,

a secure laboratory,
and full protection.

- You don't come cheap.

- I'm worth it. Trust me.

- I'll talk to the
Prime Minister.

- I'll be in touch.
- Wait.

Tell me about Patrick Wayne.

What part does he
have in all this?

- We don't have time.
- Talk fast.

- Wayne's not the one
you have to worry about.

- Go, go, go, go.

Go!

- Change of plan.
We gotta clean up.

- No, I don't need
clear it with anyone.

This is my op.

Just do it.

- Yes, ma'am.

- "I hold it true
whate'er befall.

"I feel it when I sorrow most.

"'Tis better to
have loved and lost

then never to have
loved at all."

- Thank you, Lady Catherine.

I believe that's the
last of our eulogies...

Excuse me.

Sorry to interrupt,
padre, but, uh..

Do you mind if I
say a quick word?

- It's not really the moment.
- I'll be just a sec.

This won't take a
sec.

I didn't really know these two.

But wherever they are, I'm sure
they're probably better off.

The fucking world being what
it is these fucking days, eh?

I knew their daughter Jessica.

Not very well. I only
met her yesterday.

But we had a good chat.

And I know that she
is not the monster

that everybody's
saying that she is.

She deserved far better
than what she got.

She was going after
my mate, yeah.

So I had no choice.

I had to shoot
her.

I... she didn't suffer. Hey?

It was a good blot. Dead
before she hit the ground.

No way she felt a thing.

So silver linings
and all that, hey?

There are worse ways
to go, believe me.

I'd say being eaten alive
is probably the worse.

Uh...

I was... I was out
on patrol one day.

This is way back east.

And someone said, "Watch out
for the fucking crocodiles."

We thought that
was fucking hilarious.

Fucking crocodiles?

And then, what do you
know? It fucking...

- That's enough.
You need to leave.

- I'm telling a fucking
story here, pal.

- Let's go.

- I'm not fucking
finished, am I?

Hey!
- Vicar!

Hey! All:

- You need to leave now.

- I'll fucking leave when
I'm ready to fucking leave!

You... fuck!

- Martha?

Samantha?

Anyone home?

- Just us, I'm afraid.

Mind pouring one
of those for me?

And don't be shy.

- Sure.

Uh, where's my father?

- No idea.

When I left this morning,

he seemed very worried
about something.

- Did he?

- You wouldn't happen to know
what he was worried about?

- Nope.

- You're a bad liar.

Especially for a Wayne.

- Uh, well, I assure you,

I'm... I'm not lying.

- Mm-hmm.

How are you and Martha?

- Excuse me?

- Your father and I staying
here is a nuisance, I know.

I'd hate to think I was the
cause of a marital rift.

- No, uh, no rift.

We're, uh, we're great.

Better than ever.

- Hmm.

I'm so glad to hear it.

- Hmm.

Well, uh, Martha and
Samantha will be home soon.

So I should, um...

I should make a start on dinner.

- Doesn't your
housekeeper do that?

- Oh, it's her night off.

- Are you good?

In the kitchen?

- Uh, I try.

- Need a hand?

Mm-mm.

No. I'm good.

- Hmm.

- Oh, my God.

- Quiet.

- I can't let you do this.
- We don't have time for this.

- I'm serious. No more.
This is going too far. I...

- Patrick, go to your room.

- You can't do this. I'm the...
- Go to your room.

- That was the best funeral
I have ever been to.

- Ah.

You oughta see me at weddings.

- You just ripped away

the whole silly bourgeois
façade of it all.

- Well, I'll pay
for any damages.

- You were fabulous.

Do you need to go to hospital?

- Hey, no. Soft gits.
Couldn't hurt a fly.

I've had worse, believe me.

- Oh, I do.

Sally Prufrock. Pleasure.

- Wallace MacDougal.

My friends call me Daveboy.
- Why?

- Why?
- Why do they call you Daveboy?

- I've never asked.

Oh, you're very
funny, Mr. Daveboy.

Would you like to go
for a drink with me?

- Can I ask you a question?

- Of course.

- When I said that Gully
wanted to go to America

to find Melanie,

you said you thought
that was good. Why?

- It's a reason to
live, however hopeless.

- A reason to live?

It's a bit melodramatic,
don't you think?

- You saw him today.

What do you think?

- I think that Gully Troy's
too much of an arrogant prick

to go quietly.

Always has been.

That's what made him
such a good officer.

- Strange.
- What's that?

- I wouldn't have thought
to classify arrogance

as a characteristic of
good military leadership.

- Trust me.

It's the only fucking
characteristic.

You have to believe that
you're somehow special.

That the rules of life and
death don't apply to you.

That was Gully fucking Troy.

And if you served under
him, that was you too.

- I'm not sure how much
of that Gully's left.

- Mm, people don't change.

- Maybe that's the problem.

He didn't change when
he had the chance.

Now it's too late,
and he knows that.

- Blimey.

You're a real ray
of fucking sunshine.

- Sorry.

Polite conversation's
never been my strong suit.

- Mm.

I should go back,
check on Gully.

Thanks for the beer, Alfie.

- Yeah?

- Sandra here?

- She's not taking visitors.

- Bloody parasites.

- Party's over. Everyone out.

- Who the hell are you?

- I'm the man
giving you a choice.

Out a door, out
a fucking window.

Makes no difference to me.

- Hey, there's no
reason to be so...

- Shut it!

Oh, there's a privet
hedge. You'll be all right.

Out!

And you lot, out!

Hey.

- Alfie?

What are you doing here?

- I was in the
area. Got peckish.

Thought I'd see if you
could do us a sandwich.

- No.

No sandwiches.

- Never mind.

I expect there's
biscuits at least.

Are you all right?

- No, I'm not.

Are you really here
for a sandwich?

- No.

- Yes.

Tell him to call me
as soon as he lands.

Thanks.

- Samantha's all tucked in.

She's fast asleep already.

- Thank you.

Do you know where Thomas is?

- Good even, Thomas.
- Oh, hey, Mrs. P.

- Where have you been?

- Well, my father and Virginia
are out for the night,

and so I thought I'd
pick up dinner for two.

I got the Sole with
the lemon butter

from Mirabelle's that you like.

- Really?
- Yeah.

I'll heat it up and
open the wine now.

- Okay.

What?

- Have a lovely evening.

- Thanks.

This is really...
- So, I was...

Um, after you.
- No, after you.

- Well, I was... I was
just thinking that, um...

we need to take a step
back from all this drama

and remember the
important stuff.

- That's funny.

I was thinking the
exact same thing.

- Which is that we
love each other.

And we have a
beautiful daughter.

- And nothing else matters.
- Exactly.

- I'm sorry I lied to you.

I'll never do that again.

- Yeah, well.

I'm sorry that I was

judgmental and self-righteous.

I'll go.

Wayne Residence.
Thomas speaking.

- Is everything okay?

Thomas?

What's wrong?

- Nothing.

- Obviously something is.

Who was that on the phone?

- I can't tell you.

- Why not?
- I don't trust you.

- Come on.

I thought we just now
agreed to get past all this.

- Easy for you to say.

- What's that supposed to mean?

- Look at us.

We're both prisoners.

We're both of us guilty.

- Thomas? There's no
need to exaggerate.

- What are you doing?
- I'm sorry. No choice.

Thomas!

Thomas.

Please, Thomas.
Please don't do this. Please.

- I'll see you in hell.

- Oh, my God.

Hang on, Martha. Hang on!

- Yes, I need an ambulance
now at 34 Edith Row.

And send
the police as well.

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