Picks up a coffee, checks her Facebook at her desk and feels angry. Sits through two hour+ meetings. Emails Robin. Looks through the glass at the boys on the floor becoming animated, arms waving, pointing, voices raised. Now, now, they seem to be saying. It is to do with Russia. Before lunch the office empties. The boys go to the gym and then to restaurants and bars. Polly eats salad and watches a comedy. It is the same as pre-crash, she thinks, except everyone is more stressed, more suspicious, more aware that they might need to get away, soon, fast.