The question before the work group is whether they should negotiate with F/A about sharing a particular ChumHum privacy suit. Three ayes, four opposed, and Damian Boyle is totally checked out.
Diane: "Mr. Boyle, are you in abstention?"
Damian: "What's going on? What are we talking about?"
David Lee: "God, how I hate you."
Damian: "Wait, so we're going to be friends with these people? After they poached a $35M client out from under us?"
David Lee: "Okay, Robert Emmet. Can you just vote?"
Damian: "Fine, which way do I vote to get buggered?"
Diane: "I'm gonna go ahead and mark you down as an abstention..."
But no, he's found his rabblerousing entry point: A way to demonstrate his value to the home Will's offered, without compromising anything and with the added bonus of locking in his persona for the duration of his time with LG. If he can go full-on Damian Boyle and have it work out, then they'll let him get away with anything down the road: He will sell them on the Damian Boyle Story, he will demonstrate that he is their attack dog, he will make them laugh with his incorrigible ways, and they'll never question him again. It's the perfect plan.
He drags several associates -- and the ginger secretary -- off for a little field-trip to sweet little F/A, and without even really trying to sell the cover story Damian overwhelms the receptionist with his fast-talking gab and sparkling wit. Before you know it he -- under the piss-poor guise of a moving company -- has stolen all of F/A's furniture: Desks, chairs, all the big stuff. A few seconds later the computers are all sitting on the floor next to sad paperwork, and Damian has nicked two more things: A "#1 Mom!" pin from Alicia's pen-cup, and the names on their latest lawsuit. It's not ChumHum, but it could turn into ChumHum if they play it right.
And so it is that just as Alicia, Cary and Robyn are heading into the office, and Alicia realizes they could be playing Whack-A-Mole to the end of time, they're confronted by the receptionist, who hasn't yet noticed she got played, promising them the new furniture will arrive in about an hour. We still don't know enough about Damian to know if he knew how much that would bother them -- their house-proud business-owner selves, who spend nights listening to pop covers and twirling in those chairs -- but I don't know that he'd really need to be that insightful to figure it: Anybody who's just formed a new company or bought a new home would love it in precisely the same way... And he's been homeless now for fifteen years.