There's a bonfire, and Adam is additionally gay some more about how they "definitely were living it up Trump-style" and then Markus sabers a champagne bottle and I start laughing really bitterly, because one of my original descriptions of him in Week One or Two was how he's "the kind of jackass that does that lame-ass I'm so totally upper-middle lame thing with the big knife and the champagne bottle" and I didn't put it in and now I'm kicking myself, but of course he out-Markuses even my early opinion of him as he screws it up several times, and the whole time the team is yelling safety words at him, with two notable exceptions: Alla starts yelling, "We have faith in you!" because she's both drunk and sometimes sweet, and Adam fully turning physically away from him to talk to somebody else, which was the highlight of the night to me. Markus interviews over this classic douchebag footage with the immortal "I've studied champagnes, I've been to Bordeaux, I've spent time with Margeaux, and Mouton Rothschilde, sabering champagne bottles and just having an amazing time," which I've made fun of him for saying before, but also, he goes to the trouble of pronouncing these things, and doing it hamfistedly, and as the oboes go crazy once again, Alla sums up: "When he does something off the wall, you're like, 'Uh, what?' You know? It's ridiculous. He's ridiculous!" Which seems crude, but is actually a really sweet thing to say, because the word is incompetent. He finally gets the cork off, to the cheers of everyone, thanks to the fact that he'll finally stop yelling, "Look! Look! I learned this in Margeaux! Napoleon possibly did this! I'm totally classy!" and proceeds to triumphantly shake the open bottle crazily all over the place until like an ounce of champagne is left, and then toast, "Here's to Dick's, Donald, and everybody else!" Which is funnier if you say it aloud.
There's a really sexy shot down through the central arboretum of Trump Tower, all brass and warm lights, and suddenly I get why he's so happy about it, and then there's the equally fantastic-looking Trump Bar, which is empty except for Josh and Mark, who talk about how Mark thinks James was partially to blame for derailing the whole concept with his huge batting cage and huge batting obsession, and how Josh would like to brainwash Mark into blaming Jenthura. Which he then does impressively, and then they gaze at each other romantically and promise undying fealty.
Into the Boardroom! Part deux! And again with the crutch-hopping, Rebecca! Do they just despise you or what? Bill looks terrified, and Carolyn looks like a Star Trek priestess from a deeply religious planet in her blindingly white yet flattering toga. Jenthura's rocking a Trump-esque combover, all her body volume and manageability piled up starting at her right ear, and Trump himself is in a tux because he's going to dinner at MOMA -- "You'll do that someday," lest we forget his lifestyle is what we're all basing our shit on -- and he immediately bears down on them about how it's the worst defeat in the history of the show. There's not much they can say to that.