Kendall has gone to the bathroom and Roman is staring out of the plane window, still holding his champagne glass, when Gerri comes to sit opposite him. He can't look at her, is still unable to see anything but the photos Connor sent him from the funeral parlour.
"Well done," she says. "Whatever you said to Matsson, it must have been what he needed to hear."
"I called him a cunt and said I blamed him for my father's death." Kendall would probably kill him for sharing that, but he doesn't care.
Her eyebrows shoot up. "That's quite the negotiation tactic."
"Yeah." He doesn't tell her that they're planning to tank the deal and told Matsson as much. "Congratulations on not being on the kill list."
"Yeah, well. I'm good at my job."
"Yep. You're a real good job-doer." He continues to stare out of the window.
"Is that your father's sweater you're wearing?" she asks.
That gets his attention. "Yeah. Should I be weirded out that you recognise my dad's clothing?"
"I noticed it earlier. It smells like him."
"I thought you never fucked him?"
"Roman…" She sighs. "I'm actually trying to be kind here."
"Yeah," he mutters. It's a bit late for that. "It all worked out for you, huh? A few days ago you were fired, now look at you."
"We both know your father was changeable. Even if he had lived, I doubt I would have been fired for long."
He meets her eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'm not celebrating your father's death, Roman."
"Me neither." He takes an ironic swig of champagne, contemplates popping a pill in front of her. He suddenly realises that Kendall has been in the bathroom for a while and feels a surge of panic. "Uh, I'd better go check on Ken."