Will follows him, asking what that's supposed to mean. Roy: "You know, we go to the mat for you when you were in trouble, and you talk trash about us?" Will says that wasn't his intention. Roy: "If I hadn't been one of those bureaucratic fools, you wouldn't be standing here right now." Will apologizes: "I got a little lost in the lights. I'm sorry." Roy just goes into his office without a word.

Adam's on the roof reading the paper. Some people have pointed out that the skyline behind the roof is that of New York. I can't say for sure, but it sure does look like it. What's with that? Anyway, Joan comes up to the roof. Adam asks if she's ever seen Touch of Evil, which is playing at the Rialto tonight. Joan: "In black and white?" Adam, betraying perhaps the tiniest shred of vexation: "Yeah. It's, uh -- it's Orson Welles." Joan pouts, "I want colour." That's rich, coming from someone dressed like a chimney sweep. Adam: "But the way he shot -- I mean, black and white, you know, it gives the images this rich texture…" Joan: "Adam, it's [the] twenty-first century, okay? I want colour and THX and stadium seating and cup holders. The Rialto smells like a nursing home!" That's probably better than we can say for you right now, missy. Adam: "Yeah…but you have to learn the visual language of film if you wanna…" She ratchets up a notch: "How -- how can you be so observant when it comes to some movie made during the Civil War, but when it comes to me, I could grow a moustache and you wouldn't notice?" Adam drops the paper and stands up, asking, "Did I miss something?" Joan: "I've been wearing the same clothes for two days!" I bet there are a lot of people -- especially outside the laundry-obsessed West -- who wouldn't even understand what she's talking about. I mean, not taking a shower every single day and putting on perfectly clean clothes isn't exactly the last word in slovenliness. She continues, "I haven't washed my hair! My face is so…unadorned, I could be killed by the Aztecs!" Adam shrugs, mystified as always: "It's cool with me…um…" Joan, incredulous, demands, "So the rank, stinky, slob thing, that's a turn-on for you?" Adam: "If it's who you are." God, Joan, are you ever going to get this boy? Or will you drive him away and spend your life kicking yourself? Joan: "And how about before? In the last couple days, I've been wearing so much makeup and hairspray, I looked like a TV evangelist! Does that work for you, too?" He replies, "Appearances are superficial, Jane!" Joan searches his face, and finds no trace of guile there: "So it's about inner beauty -- that's what matters?" Adam agrees. Joan: "How about going to the mall?" Adam's puzzled again. She's hollering, "That matters to you! And that's all about appearances!" He says that's different. She practically shrieks: "No, it isn't! No! You are so vain!" Great. Now I've got Carly Simon stuck in my head. Now it's Adam's turn to be incredulous: "M -- right!" He gestures to his Armani hoodie and Tommy Hilfiger jeans: "Look at me!" Joan accuses him of trying so hard to look like he doesn't care. Joan, listen: he doesn't care. He doesn't have to work at it. She rants: "But you do! You do care! Oh, you -- you want to be that arty guy, who thinks he's so above the mall! Well, I like the mall, okay?" She's practically barking at this point.