Clay continues to say that Markus also talks too much, and Markus gets angry, interrupting him and yelling about how that's not true this week. Clay gets some punk rock points here by wordlessly pointing to Markus, who's busy talking too much about how he doesn't talk too much. Trump asks again whether he means it, considering that he was right about the campaign, and Clay says, "Yes sir." Adam nods subtly. Trump asks James, who swoops into a speech about the things they could have done better, but Trump just demands a name, and that name is Chris.
Trump asks whom Chris has chosen to come back with him. "Markus." Who else? "Just Markus." Just Markus? "Yes." So you only want to bring in Markus. "Yes, sir." That's four times he asked, Chris. In addition to telling you more than once not to do this, that it's an unwise idea, and questioning all of your teammates for saying Markus as well. So more like twenty times. That's like begging, for Donald Trump. As they leave, Carolyn's like, "You dumb idiot ass."
On the Robin couch, Markus looks dissatisfied as usual, because why on Earth can't everyone see what a genius he is, and just do what he says, and let him play with the walkie and be all smooth? As silk?
Essay Question: Imagine you're a real estate mogul with hair like carpet and a constant cheek-sucking look of disdain and confusion. You're presented with three candidates for employment: An irritating and creepy Good Ole Boy with no design sense and a belief that women are kind of retarded, who actually cost the team the account; a good-looking and smart Christmas Tree farmer and former NFL player who manages his teammates well, except when they directly contradict him in front of the client; and a waste of time in every sense who effects everyone around him like one of those gopher things that gives invisible rays of chalkboard-screeching bad vibes. Choose two.