"Jesus, Lancelot." There's anger there, and it's not entirely hers. After the 'meeting' Eames had with him at the start of the month, there's a simmering rage at the mention of his name that it takes Kathryn a moment and a breath to bite back.

"Come on," she says, moving next to him to put a gentle hand on his back, try and guide him toward the living room, "let's sit down."