Lester likened all the tenants to birds, his favorite hobby.
And you were the cuckoo chick!
The neediest bird of all, a taker.
The taker?
Mabel, what's the first word that comes to mind
when you think of me?
- Oh, narcissist. - What the hell?
Oh, my God.
Mabel Mora?
Althea?
Actually, it's THĒ now. I shortened it, T-H-Ē.
Something's not adding up.
Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a little peek.
We're doing an autopsy?
A meat cleaver to the chest. Maybe cocaine?
I got it! Money amounts.
"Brown-headed cowbird."
Maybe these are code names.
There might be a game tonight. We have to go.
Lester and Nicky have both been here.
You're gonna get us killed by a bunch of murderous mobsters.
They're all billionaires.
This isn't the mob. This is the new mob of New York.
How does it feel to be worth a billion dollars?
If I'm honest, not as good as it felt
to win my first hundred dollars on a perfect bluff.
That was the day I fell in love with parlor games,
and with winning.
I was five years old when I first beat my father at chess.
Before that, I thought he was the smartest person in the world.
Broke my heart to learn that I was,
that no one would beat me for the rest of my life.
What fun is that?
The problem for most rich people is that there's no amount of money
that can make 'em stop wanting more.
Money's a game, and they love to win.
I know people see me as a rich guy, but I barely even think about money,
which is why I'm so normal.
Alright, good.
Take that. Throw the ball.
Go get it.
It's great getting out with the pup.
He can't find it. Go get it.
Not a typical Saturday night.
I think our days of typical nights here are behind us.
Let's be fast about this.
Are we going to talk about…
- What was that? - Maybe a rat?
Who's in here?
Why are the richest people in the world in our basement?
And did they kill our doorman?
Find out next season on…
Oh, I'm taking a panorama.
Jay Pflug has a bandaged nub, and we have a finger.
I don't think it's a huge leap to assume that our finger goes on his nub.
Oh, he's definitely a suspect. At the least, he was involved.
Maybe the cleaver that was in Nicky's chest
also chopped off Jay's finger.
And Lester was down there. Maybe he saw something
- he shouldn't have. - Hello.
What the hell?
I'm LESTR.
Aw, look how moved everyone is.
Meet our new doorman. We named him
after the dead one, in tribute.
L-E-S-T-R.
Logic Engineered Secure Tenant Robot.
Those words don't even make sense together.
They're trying to trick us into thinking it's a tribute
- instead of the rise of the machine. - That's true.
My greatest challenge is my unsettling effect on humans.
Well, I've seen The Terminator, so I'm on Team Machine.
As the keeper of the building's secrets, the board hired me to train LESTR.
This is so sad. A robot doorman.
The beginning of the end of old New York.
No!
See, the machine will just handle things like deliveries or reminders.
Thanks to the union… my union…
there will always be a human face at the door.
Just, hopefully this human.
He's right. We couldn't get rid of him.
I just need to scan everyone's iris and fingerprint.
That thing's not getting anywhere near my irises.
Alright, I'm gonna get my hair done.
God knows why, since nobody ever notices.
What's happening to our sweet little murder building?
Yeah. Things are changing fast.
- Are you doing toe raises? - Yeah, I do toe raises.
I've never seen you do a toe raise.
Have you ever seen me brush my teeth? I do that too.
I took Winnie's doggy Ritalin, stayed up all night,
- and basically solved this. - You two are a lot for me today.
- Vince. - What are you doing here?
And look at you with two eyes.
Hiya, guys. Lester and I were birding buddies.
So, Oliver invited me up here to decode the ledger,
figure out which one of the birds was playing cards
- on the night that he died. - You birded with Lester?
Well, he was the expert,
I just followed along to keep him honest.
He had a knack for turning a robin into a bushtit…
…if you know what I mean.
No one has any idea what you mean.
Well, he was an optimist.
Very good at life, but not so at birding.
But I miss him. I miss our days in the park.
Sit, sit.
Okay.
Oh-ho, wow!
An Oliver Putnam murder board. Love the sari.
Yeah, from my '70s Rajneesh days.
Please let that be a hash stain.
That's a lot of work. Oliver, what happened to you?
Well, I thought about what you said to me the other day
when you complimented me. What'd you call me?
- Self-centered narcissist. - Yes, that… that was it.
Anyway, I heard it.
So, last night, as I lay there thinking about myself…
the strangest thing happened.
I suddenly thought about you
and how you always make the murder boards.
So, I thought to myself, I'll do it, for you.
Bravo, Oliver. Bravo.
- What growth. - Okay.
We did solve one mystery:
why Lester wrote down the player's names
using a secret bird code.
They're the most powerful people in the world.
He was scared of them.
Somebody be recordin', because I am about to get birdie with it.
Per Lester's notes,
the gaming parlor usually hosted a whole flock of birds.
But last Saturday,
there were only five.
Now, first, Nicky.
He is the Brown-headed cowbird,
known for their mafia-like retaliatory behavior.
Oof! Okay, 'kay, 'kay,
you don't have to do the calls.
Well, it sounds like a mobster, doesn't it?
Next, Jay Pflug, heir to the Pflug fortune,
maker of Pflug faucets, which gave everybody lead poisoning.
So, they founded Pflug Pharma,
which invented a medicine to cure lead poisoning.
Made billions.
He branded himself as, uh, this black sheep philanthropist,
but the guy is a monster.
His last nonprofit funneled money to guerrilla groups.
The terrorists, not the primates.
L-Let's… let's keep it on birds.
He's the Eurasian Jay.
I, too, get my bird on.
Okay, lotta new colors on you.
Anyway, since the Jay bird is missing a claw…
No, I'm sorry, I'm done.
He's missing a finger, so, it's obviously…
No, no, no. We're not done.
Bash Steed.
AI genius, longevity freak.
Way older than he looks, but no one knows how old
because he owns the internet.
Now, I have to find out how old he is.
He is the kākāpō.
They are known to live up to 90 years in the wild.
And finally, Camila White.
Lifestyle queen, hotel magnate,
duchess of cashmere.
You can buy a candle that smells like the inside of her nose.
She is the queen of decor.
The bowerbird, maker of beautiful nests.
Okay, anyways, there's a finger in Charles's freezer
and we have a suspect missing a finger.
So, how do we get to Jay?
- We let him know we're onto him. - Ahh.
Yes.
And while we here at Only Murders in the Building
aren't pointing fingers just yet…
…we're wading into the dangerous waters of both old mob and new.
Uber rich powerbrokers
who don't have to break an arm to get what they want.
They just write a check.
No one writes checks anymore.
We already have some ideas about who has a partial hand
in these two deaths, so don't miss season five.
This is so good.
Oh, we're definitely gonna hear from him.
He'll wanna defend himself.
Post, young one!
I do wish we'd worked in the word "phalange."
Okay, for the last time, Charles, phalange-thropist is not a good pun.
That's funny.
- To you. - Mm.
Oh, my God, hi!
Althea… THE.
Um, this is Oliver.
- Oh, hello. How are you? - Hi. Cute pillows.
Yes, I'm bequeathing them to young Mabel for her new apartment.
That is so kind of you.
I mean, I could buy myself pillows, it's just, these are vintage Missoni.
THĒ! Hi!
Howard Morris.
That's THĒ.
- Uh, hello, Howard. - Hi.
THĒ is the number one most downloaded artist…
…for 13 weeks in a row.
Here's her current hit.
Glamorous! Okay.
Oh, my God, stop it!
Wait, why did it stop?
Oh, I'm just… I'm just kidding.
Anyway, Mabel, how are you? How's your little podcast going?
Great. We dropped our season five teaser a few days ago.
Their listens are 24% lower
than their season four teaser.
Oh, did you all hear the new podcast Drunk Sluts Do Murder?
Oh, my God, yes. I love the sluts.
- Do people say "slut" again? - Sluts do.
Did you hear the one where they play strip beer pong
- with the forensics expert? - Beyond.
Drunk Sluts Do Murder
are ranked 19 spots higher than Only Murders…
No. No, don't feel bad.
Don't feel bad. It's just 'cause Wondify is, like,
shoving the sluts down our throats, you know?
It's so hard to get noticed when you're indie, right?
We actually just signed a huge deal at Wondify.
So, be prepared to have us down your throats, too.
We did?
I mean, I… I still can't believe it.
That is amazing! Oh my God, so you know what you need?
You need my publicist. He's so intuitive.
He's psychic, and he's a hired assassin.
But you did not hear that from me, okay?
Bye, Howard! Bye, robot.
- Bye, girl! - Bye, girl.
So, I lied, but maybe that's not a bad thing,
because now I'm sending in this kick-ass pitch,
and they'll offer us a podcast deal, right?
I mean, there's already a movie about us,
and I… I'm, you know, just shocked
that they haven't come to us already, you know?
Mabel, why did you do this?
Okay, fine.
Althea and I were each other's only friend in middle school.
I trusted her with everything.
And we'd make these stupid little videos
where we'd play these characters, Sunny and Cloudy.
Sunny was optimistic. Cloudy was, well, cloudy.
- And you were Cloudy. - No, I was Sunny.
Oh, so that's the joke.
- What do you mean? - Uh, just continue.
Anyway, then when Zoe died…
Zoe… is a familiar name.
Oliver, Mabel's friend. The roof.
Oh, from season one!
Oh, my God, that was so sad.
Yeah, well, I… I wasn't doing that great.
I stayed here for the summer and depressed.
And then, when I went home, Althea had completely changed.
She had made all new friends and turned everyone against me.
I kind of spiraled and spent the rest of high school
in my room with Tumblr.
That's a pornography site.
Not anymore. They ruined it.
Well, now, the person who has turned me off having friends…
…is here at number one
while we are 32, and…
Um, are my old-men friends texting while I trauma dump?
Jay Pflug just sent us a video.
Hey, podcasters, heard your teaser.
Sounds like you have some thoughts. I'll be by at 7:00 to clear things up.
Oh, shit.
Om…
A billionaire is coming to dinner.
Champagne, caviar, Godiva.
This is what you're serving a billionaire for dinner?
No, no, no, we don't serve dinner.
We serve salty sweets to make him thirsty,
then offer him nothing to drink but bubbly.
He'll get blackout and tell us everything. This is my way.
Yes, let's get a possible murderer hangry and drunk. Great plan.
If you invite someone over at 7:00, you have to serve 'em dinner.
It's a rule of society. And that's why I brought…
What is that, the Magna Carta?
No, it's my great-gran's recipe for duck à l'orange.
It's a billionaire's delight.
Charles, no one needs your 17th-century old lady food
and outdated social rules.
Do you know how many billionaires I've entertained here?
Well, technically none, but plenty of millionaires,
which were the billionaires of the '80s.
Alright, we are interrogating, not entertaining.
Ah, yeah, but you need one for the other.
This is one of the richest people on Earth.
He wants courses. Many, many courses.
- Etiquette is not dead. - I think etiquette died
four months after the internet was invented,
and that guy's head went into an elephant's ass.
Ah, well.
He's early. He's an early bird.
Okay, okay.
Oh, Jay, welcome. Come in.
I come bearing gifts.
- Ah. - Never show up empty-handed.
Though, I'm a little handicapped, if you don't mind grabbing that.
Oh-ho. Beer, how generous.
Ah, stoked to meet you all.
One of the reasons why I play cards here is because it's the murder building,
and that is all because of you.
Well, we give a lot of credit to the murderers.
Say, so, uh, what has you playing cards in our famous Velvet Room?
You know, I started a few months ago…
Man, I knew I was being followed.
Good evening. Camila White.
Oh, isn't this an assaulting amount of everything?
Better.
Oh, my goodness.
Jay, is that you?
- I had no idea you'd be here. - Mm-hmm.
Well, I heard the podcast, and it seemed like these people
thought you were involved in the mob killing.
Camila White, charmed. Camila White.
Oh, dear God. A plum plaid.
So, I'm here to clear Jay's name.
Fuck off, Camila, I'm here to clear my name.
You were worried about what I'd say about you.
That is certainly not true,
and I don't like the ugly use of words that end in hard Ks.
Shall we begin again?
Softer consonants?
Our host brought four chocolates.
Hello. Sebastian Steed.
No… I'd invite you in if I had more chocolates.
Oh, my God. You're spying on us.
Of course he is, he owns the internet.
Just stopping by for a drink, Bash?
No. I'm here because they're investigating you.
Naturally, I've been having you followed.
I knew you'd try to pin it on me.
Thanks for your robot-like honesty.
You're welcome.
Well, we're really having a party here.
Please, have a seat.
Whoo!
Who needs champagne?
Oh, I'll have a '97 Bordeaux.
- I don't think I have that. - Oh, truly,
any '97 Bordeaux will do.
I don't have any '97 Bordeaux.
So, I'm noticing three of the richest people in the world
are here in our little building.
I'm top three, they're top 20.
Sebastian, on many lists I'm four.
Uh, the point is that you all seem a little nervous
about what our little investigation has uncovered.
No one's nervous.
We're all here for one reason. Yeah?
Yes. To give you the opportunity
to keep us out of your podcast before we sue you for libel.
Libel, wow.
Let's… let's just turn down the temp a tad,
and, uh, let's nibble some caviar…
Oh.
Oops. I'm so sorry.
There really wasn't very much.
It's not libel to say we found you sniffing around a murder scene.
What do you mean?
The news said that the body was found
hanging from a rack in his own dry cleaners?
Yes, I… I don't know why you're even looking into this.
I mean, my people say you do murders in the building.
It's an odd business model, this "in the building" rule.
Your metrics would improve with a wider net.
Bash, always be talking metrics.
Well, the dry cleaners is on the street level,
so technically, it is "of" the building.
Listen, nobody wants to sue anyone.
We just can't have our names tied to secret card games
- and dead mobsters, you know? - Mm.
My stock crashes, and tens of thousands
of indigenous weavers go hungry.
Because she fires 'em.
Yes, why else would they go hungry?
So, the three of you knew the "Dry Cleaning King of Brooklyn"?
The dead mobster? Not at all.
I know he owned the gaming parlor.
The mobby shit's always been part of what makes the place so cool.
What's there to investigate?
A mob hit is very open and shut. Won't be your best season.
Well, we're also investigating the death of our doorman.
Did you know him?
I mean, there was a guy who always covered the door
for the Saturday games. Uh, gray mustache?
That was Lester. It was ruled natural causes
because of a fall.
Yes, falls are the leading cause of injury deaths in the elderly.
- You two, be careful. - Our Pilates instructor says we have
- the gait stability of 46-year-olds. - It's true.
If you're serious about age-reversal,
you have to consider plasma replacement therapy.
I own a stable of teen plasma donors.
We have reason to believe that Nicky died last week when Lester died.
There were signs that Nicky was frozen.
Someone hid his body to make it look like they were unrelated.
Oh, you got your hands on the body.
Wow.
I mean, can you admit that
on a podcast? That's a felony, right?
I'm sure they went to the authorities immediately.
Mm.
Mm-hmm. Um, you know what, let's get you some more caviar.
- Mm. Absolutely. - Let's get it, I think there's more caviar
- in the kitchen. - I'm good.
- We definitely have bologna. - And, uh,
I think there's a fresher bottle.
Okay, okay, okay, I was not prepared for all three.
Are they making veiled threats or being charming?
I can't tell.
Let's split them up and see what they say about Jay's finger.
I'll take Jay because we're not old.
And Charles should take Bash because they're both, well,
what we used to call "the weird kid."
Aw.
Camila! I… I just have a few more questions.
Can I give you a tour?
Fine.
If you can stop yelling, a tour before dinner.
Dinner! I said we need dinner.
Of course, a party at 7:00 means dinner.
Thank you, Bash! Gimme a hand?
If the servants don't mind.
Oh, the servants aren't gonna mind.
Beer?
So, Jay…
How'd you lose the finger?
How'd those two old guys become your best friends?
Nice.
So, how well do you know Jay?
Have you… have you two been playing together for long?
All I know about Jay
is he has a tantrum like a toddler when he loses…
- Ooh. - …which is tragic and amusing.
I'm sorry, but every room
- in this house needs me. - Oh.
Are those the Statler and Waldorf balconies on your wall?
Ha! Well, I'm… I'm a theater director.
So, you thought, "I should put theater directing on my walls"?
Well, but, the… the beauty of this place is really its stories.
Uh, like my ex-wife, uh, loved these drapes,
so I fought to keep them out of spite.
Not necessarily my finest moment,
but, uh, not all the stories in here are great.
Well, this looks great.
This is great. It's my new wife.
And she moved in… to all this?
Uh, well, n… Uh, not yet,
but, uh, you know, I mean…
I love duck à l'orange.
During the war we only had duck at Christmas.
Oh, and… and which war was that?
"Three sprigs of parsley." Uh, I'll chop.
Haven't cooked in decades.
So, you haven't used a… a cleaver in a while.
You know anybody else who might have used a cleaver?
- Anybody? - Isn't it interesting?
None of us will leave behind written recipes.
Future generations will just have bookmarks on chef robots.
Yeah, it's, uh… it's true, it's sad.
You know, the… the times are changing,
especially for us old guys in our… How old did you say you were?
That depends on the organ.
Charles, wallowing takes six years off your life.
Dorothy Parker told me that. She took my virginity.
Point is, you're only old if you don't change with the times.
You know, technology's helped me stay young.
But reinvention is the real key.
Yeah, that… it… it takes a lot of energy keeping up.
Yeah, it does.
Every time I've put a wife in assisted living and had to start over,
I've had moments of doubt that I could do it.
But I did.
And you can.
Well, thank you.
Now, how much orange zest goes in great-gran's…
Oh! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
My great-gran is gone!
It's gone.
No!
How much orange zest
is in Charles-Haden Savage's great-gran's duck à l'orange recipe?
There are one-and-a-half teaspoons
of orange zest in that recipe.
How did it know that?
Show me Charles-Haden Savage
making duck à l'orange.
That sounds like a lot of zest, Brazzos.
I'm zesty, Regis.
Yes, you're a multi-talented guy.
I admire guys like that, that could do more than one thing.
I just revel in it.
Probably in ten minutes, something unbelievable is gonna happen.
Why do I think it's gonna be me making your duck a l'orange?
Well, Regis, because you're psychic.
We're gonna take a commercial break
and make it happen in the next segment.
I forgot I did that.
My great-gran lives on.
Thank you.
This is why I do what I do.
In the right hands, technology should keep the past alive, preserved,
like I'm preserved every night floating in my tank of collagen.
- I also had a sad home. - Ah.
My first one.
A young girl with a deep love of beauty,
born to a casino magnate and his former showgirl wife,
raised amidst a sea of hot pink
in Reno.
Eww, so sorry.
The moment I turned 18,
I moved… to Connecticut.
- Oh. - Leaving that home
jump-started my mission to beautify the world,
and it turned me into a billionaire.
And I started with nothing.
So, are… are you saying that Loretta and I
should start fresh? Get a new place?
- These bones are remarkable. - Ah.
You just need to change everything.
So, uh, come on, the finger?
I gotta know.
The only crime I'm guilty of is being an embarrassing nepo baby
who's trying to do some good with his ancestors' blood money.
Yeah, and how's that going?
I started my own nonprofit, hired a CEO,
a friend of mine I trusted, who then took all the money.
Everyone thinks I'm a swindler,
but really, I'm just shit at knowing who to trust.
I'm sure it'll happen again.
Then, why keep trying?
Because I wanna prove to everyone that I'm not a… fuck up.
Are you aware of the pop sensation THĒ?
Uh, the "The" girl? Yeah, why?
She is someone I incorrectly trusted.
She couldn't be more frustrating,
and I… I can't stop wanting to impress her.
So, I lied and said we were getting a deal at Wondify,
and we aren't.
So, now I have to try to make that happen.
I'm sure it won't.
And I hate myself for that.
I will literally kill you.
She wrote that, I feel like, about me.
It's really good. It's catchy.
I was playing with these bozos the night Nicky died,
but I did not kill anyone.
So, what happened with your finger?
Just another bad decision in a long line of bad decisions.
While we have a quiet moment,
I wanna help you make sure you stay out of our little story.
But what happened to Jay's finger?
Fine.
The night Lester died,
Nicky showed up with this cleaver.
Wa… Was he mad at someone? Maybe Jay?
He was livid and raving about the film "Goodfellows"?
He had an inordinate amount of white powder
under his nose.
I'd call it a Snow White white,
or perhaps a Santa's beard white.
He was nuts.
He was gonna hit someone. I tried to stop him.
I mean, Bash is covered in baby skin,
but he's pretty old.
Well, I tried to calm him down, but Jay had to be the hero,
and so Nicky… "chh!"… chopped off his finger.
I obviously left because of the mess.
And also, it's rude to be the last to leave a party, so…
I told Jay not to escalate, but chop-chop. Then we all ran out.
There wasn't time to look for it, which is why I went back.
It'd be nice not to have a finger floating around, ya know?
You didn't happen to see it in there, did you?
Okay. Duck à l'orange
is ready in two hours and 45 minutes.
- Who's hungry? - I don't eat after 11 a.m.,
but have we answered all your questions?
Well, yes, I learned that Nicky chopped off Jay's finger,
and then Bash, Camila, and Jay ran out.
- Yeah, that's what Jay said. - And Lester and Nicky
were still alive, so…
Huh, look at you two not lying to pin it on me.
- You do care. - Case closed.
And now that we've cleared this up,
I trust I won't hear my name on future episodes.
Okay, duck à l'orange in two hours and 44 minutes.
Ah. Next time.
Forgot I have some friends coming over to do some rock climbing.
Mabel…
thanks.
It was a really nice talk.
Touching food again was pleasant.
Enjoy the remodel.
Wait, what remodel?
Wow, this really is much better.
How did we not hear anything?
She's a home decor witch!
This is better. The hot glue fumes
from my apartment jump-started my hangover.
Does champagne expire?
Oh, you should really lay off the alcohol.
Uh, Bash says it inflames your enzymes.
Now, which war would you think was going on
when Dorothy Parker was in her sexual prime?
First sexual prime, or second?
How crazy is it that we have Jay Pflug's finger in your freezer?
At least we figured that out.
So, we're gonna believe these three?
Oh, please, Camila is no killer.
Although, I felt like I was spending a couple of hours
with a cross between Ann-Margret and Nanette Fabray, so I almost died.
Jay didn't do it.
He was just trying to protect everyone.
He's, um… sweeter than I expected.
Mabel…
did your eyelashes just flutter?
Oliver, Jay makes Mabel's eyelashes flutter.
No, I'm n… Shut up, I'm not fluttering.
It's just maybe we should give him his finger back.
Crushing on a suspect, Mabel?
This is really a Charles storyline,
- isn't it? - Ugh.
If both of you couple up,
that leaves me birding with Vince, or getting a drink with a robot.
Oh, my God, you guys, Wondify wants to sign us.
They said that they would love to have us
come see the studio and become part of the Wondify family.
- Your email worked! - You're kidding.
Oh, take that, THĒ.
Whoa, wish that you were us, bitch!
Whoa, I didn't mean for that to come out.
Wish that you were us, ma'am.
- I'm very excited. - Me too.
Welcome, OMITB!
Congratulations, you have a beautiful baby podcast.
Oh, we're so excited.
Let me give you a tour, okay? I love the stripes.
- Oh, thanks. - It's fab.
Some of our smaller studios are that way.
Oh, you're gonna love this. Those are the Drunk Sluts.
Such champs, recorded seven episodes today.
Oh my God…
You're killin' it, ladies!
- Hi! - Ah!
Okay.
- This is your studio. - Whoa. What?
Oh, really?
- Okay. - Yeah.
Oh, my God.
- Yeah. Mm-hmm. - Thank you. Oh, water.
Hello, how are you?
- Oh, your camera operator. - Hi.
- Your engineer. - Hi.
- Look at the awards.
- It's insane. - Okay, uh, this'll do.
Okay.
So, per the contract, we'll relaunch you
with a month-long stint on our welcome page.
- Uh-huh. - I told your lawyer between makeup lines
and elder safety devices, you're an advertising juggernaut.
Well, the timing couldn't be better.
I mean, considering who we're investigating,
we could use a little extra firepower.
And it's a cast of characters you dream of.
You know, an… an adulterous mob wife.
Sebastian Steed and Camila White running for their lives
after a mobster chops off Jay Pflug's finger.
Incredible. Just one thing…
Sorry. Guys?
Which way do your pointers curve?
They point away from each other.
- Huh, never noticed that. - Yeah.
Jay lost his right finger.
The finger we have curves left.
That lying piece of shit.
- This isn't his finger. - So, who… Whose finger is it?
You mean, they were lying when they told us what happened?
They had gotten their stories straight.
Someone else was in the room that night,
someone that Lester didn't put in his little bird ledger.
Well, I'm ready to start recording.
I'm gonna take that little nepo baby down.
Wow, what a twist.
Just keep in mind the restrictions of the corporate machine we have here.
Sorry? What restrictions?
Well, per the contract you just signed,
you're unable to podcast about management of the company.
Conflict of interest.
And we have new majority stakeholders as of very recently.
Um, who?
The easiest way to win a game
is to make your opponent think they're playing
a different game entirely.
- I confided in Jay. - They joined forces.
They're all dirty.
While focused on that game,
your opponent may give you just what you need
to win the real prize.
Oh God, don't worry.
If eliminating those three takes the teeth out of this story,
your deal can be rolled to any other podcast ideas.
You know, you're family now,
and will remain exclusively so for three years.
By the time they realize what you've done…
game's over.