Conor: "Okay, we're good again."
Ray: "Anything else? While I've got you here."
Conor: "Yeah, I'm still mad you hit Grandpa."
Ray: "You really like him, huh? Why does everybody fucking love that guy?"
Conor, verbatim: "He's fun. He talks to me."
Ray: "That's a little on the nose, but message received. Taking care of Tommy was taking care of you, but at the end of the day he still got to spend the whole time with me."
The way Conor looks at Tommy, you can see Tommy wanting to look that way at Ray sometimes, a little bit. The way he talks about Mickey, of course a father would want to hear and see that. But then too, he came through for him, and when he pulls Conor into his arms -- yards from the red carpet, everybody watching -- the boy comes willingly, sweetly, without any embarrassment or shame: That's something that couldn't exist between them and anybody else. "I love you," he tells his son, without stuttering or thinking about it, and gives Conor something he never got, and Tommy never got, and on some level Conor gets that, I think.
Abby, nicely in her way: "He stinks of booze, and he's wearing a woman's shirt."
Ray: "Yep. He'll be fine."
Frank calls Ray to tell him it's going down, which is a huge relief for Ray and would be a huge relief for us, if we didn't know Van Miller was clearly about to die, so Lena sends the mom and daughter -- bored, conked out on the couch -- and gives them her regrets: That last-minute photo shoot's been canceled. They can go. Mom's pissy, but goes easy enough, and nobody ever figures out what was really going on.
Avi arrives with the poodle -- Sully's already at his motel so I guess he didn't want the poodle -- and hands it off to Lena, who like all right-thinking Americans hates poodles, and thus hands it off to Tara and her mom, as a sort of consolation prize. It's a kind of neat little bow on the whole situation: As everything gets wrapped up, even the dog gets a pass out of the story, and everybody's happy.
"I said to myself on the drive, if LA looks like this, I'll fucking kill myself! But now that I'm here, it's nice."
There's a pushmi-pullyu moment where Ray keeps trying to keep everybody safe (including Sully) and Sully's stubborn-old-man thing is ever-present and Ray keeps being like, "Yeah, but this is LA and you've been in hiding for a million years so maybe give a thought to what I am offering you, such as a car and many guns," but which for Sully is not about specifics but about the general narrative in his head: Free of Boston, of hiding, of his mother and his horrible girlfriend, and back in the saddle, he will be damned if some whippersnapper tells him what to do. It's irritating, especially if you hate old people and their bullshit; it goes on and on forever before Ray finally gives him the time and date (Black Irish's first fight, of course). But again: James Woods.