Peggy is standing in an unfurnished apartment as a woman's voice tells her it's just about 1300 square feet, and having lived in many New York apartments not nearly that size, you'll forgive me if I take a moment to steady myself. The broker, after ticking off all the apartment's features, says that she thinks it has everything on Peggy's list, and although Peggy thinks it's quite a bit farther east than is ideal, the broker assures her she'll love it. "And believe me, when they finish the Second Avenue Subway, this apartment will quadruple in value." For those of you who aren't aware, the Second Avenue Subway has been a punch line for New Yorkers for decades, so much so that the first event that stalled its construction was the Great Depression. But, and I realize this is "fool me fifty times" territory, it appears like its opening is imminent in the grand scheme of things, so whoever's got Peggy's prospective apartment in 2013 should be sitting pretty.
The doorbell rings, and the broker thinks it's going to be a "Barbara" (co-op board member, perhaps?), but it's actually Abe, who looks like he hasn't washed his hair in a week, which isn't a great look given the lengths that are fashionable in this era. The realtor, after casting an appraising (sorry) eye over him, makes that standard pitch about there being another buyer so Abe better act now, but Abe is like, that's great, but Moneybags over here is going to be making the actual decision. The broker, who is hitting that "brittle with a smile" note that so many people in this profession default to like a pro, takes in this information and replies that she misunderstood the situation before going off to busy herself with the toilet, whereupon Abe whispers to Peggy: "She didn't know I wasn't the buyer? So all this time she was just being rude." Heh. Peggy tells him to forget about her, and then asks him if the place is too far east. Considering Abe hasn't yet recovered his breath from hucking his ass over from the Lexington line, I'm guessing his answer is going to be "yes."
Bobby notices a spot on his wall where the paper is lined up unevenly and starts picking at it. This may seem OCD, but the wallpaper pattern is so boring I'd imagine he'd take any excuse. He gets a decent-sized piece off before Betty's voice calls him for dinner, whereupon he slides the bed over to cover his handiwork. All well and good, Bobby, but you might want to get that impulse under control. You don't have much more furniture to work with here.