Downstairs, Dan is having a smoke when Langrishe comes in. Al comes down to greet him. "Less throb today, one hopes, in the phantom digit," Jack says, indicating Al's missing finger. "Not to fucking mention elsewhere, huh?" Al mumbles. One begins to worry that Dolly's reputation is going to suffer from what appears to be Al's Hearst-induced stress impotence. Langrishe asks him what he knows about Joanie. He tells him about her former work as a whoremistress, and about Wolcott's activities at the Chez Amie. "Hearst's geologist killed three of her girls," he explains. "The three he didn't she hid under canvas and spirited out of camp." He says that he has the impression that Joanie donates, rather than rents out, her building as a school house. "To cleanse the camp's idea of her?" Langrishe wonders. "Would that base her turning away a theater type's offer to buy?" Al says no, that wouldn't enter into it. "Cares for a gut-shot shitbird no one in camp has time for, nor she has any love for either. Loyal, see? That type." Jack wonders if she has some sentimental reason for not selling to him. "I wouldn't know, Jack," Al says, distracted by other issues on his mind. "She's all right." He starts mumbling about Hearst again. "Must think I'm a fucking dog," he says, scratching his bandage, "[that] forgives the blow, first friendly scratch of the ear." Langrishe is confused and Al explains that Hearst has sent another invitation for Al to come to his rooms. "Shall I accompany," Langrishe asks with noble theatrics, "as your second? My obvious unsuitability might confuse him." Al gives a little laugh and goes out. "Do survive," Jack says, and turns to see Dolly, giving him her best come-hither glance.
Al meets Cy in the lobby of the Grand Central. "Titans gather!" E.B. says, earning a quiet rebuke from Al. They ascend the stairs to Hearst's rooms. "I think Cochran's a lunger," Cy says. Al scoffs, indicating their various wounds: "Bit motley ourselves, huh?"
Outside, Bullock is still going up and down the thoroughfare, taking care of bidness. He strides up on Sol and with no preamble asks how much he'd say the livery was worth. Sol tries to say that he'd have to look into it, but Bullock interrupts that he needs an answer right now. "Twelve hundred, if you'd make me say without investigating," Sol says, but Bullock is already walking away. Okay, I'm not busting on him, but -- sometimes, because Olyphant doesn't really move his arms when he does his Bullock walk, he has a bit of Muppet flair when he makes a quick exit.