Cut to Randal screaming into the phone. It's awesome: "Gosh, I hate waiting for these large files." There is actually no way to say these lines believably, especially if you're talking to yourself, but he comes cutely close. Picture Randal standing in an empty room, staring at, like, a framed photograph or something, and he's saying, "Beth Wallace, you'll never get that baby, no matter how many times you shove a bag of sugar up your dress, fake a car accident, put on a clown costume and keep me in a pit in your basement. Never! Luis is mine!" Awesome, right? That's what it's like.

From one drama to another, as Alla lectures Felisha about her acting choices, going against her original promise not to do this exact thing they both knew she'd be doing. Felisha lays out the basics of the burning bed she made earlier, in which they're both now obliged to lie: "I'm listening to what Alla says [true], but making sure that I'm heard as well [lie]. I don't think we can win unless we do this has a team [precisely and exactly half true]. Alla doesn't feel comfortable without creative control […duh]." There is then a brilliant moment where Alla commandeers an innocent producer into the fray, forcing him to point out that if Felisha is the one being filmed, she's in no position to make direction decisions. They all laugh fakely and it's incredibly tense, and Felisha and Alla fall all over each other about how it's "collaborative" and they're both directing, and again the guy points out that, here, "collaborative effort" actually means that Felisha would have to clone herself and be behind the camera at the same time as she's in front of it. Well, what he's really saying is, Get your fucking ducks in a row because we're on a deadline, but Alla suddenly feints with a brilliant "Are you sure you want me to do this?"