(tense music)
'Two people dead, both with a screwdriver
and you, balls-deep in both deaths! Come on, Elvira!
'I know who killed Maria Riedle.'
'It's the same person who killed Agnes Dunford, and the others.'
She'll live. That's the whole idea, isn't it?
So Vivienne is keeping Alma alive.
This changes everything.
Ward. He killed Agnes. 'So you could replace her.'
Dad? This is the only item they found in Ward's pocket.
MD. Michael Dunford.
Michael pushed Ward over the ledge and into the water.
ROSE: This is the feed from the night Ruby Conroy was killed.
It's a mountain bike, it has yellow front forks.
We believe it may still be in their possession.
During his acceptance speech, I'll have Patsy declare Hughie innocent.
Your father's reputation will be tarnished.
There's an understatement. Jesus Christ, Elvira!
You're not listening! Ward was a killer.
Stop the presses!
(echo)
So much for Albert being my fall guy.
(knocking) (gasp)
♪ Leave Right Now
♪ I'm here, just like I said
♪ Though it's breaking every rule I've ever made
♪ My racing heart
♪ Is just the same
♪ Why make it strong, to break it once again
(whirring)
♪ And I'd love to say I do
♪ Give evrything to you
♪ But I can never now be true
♪ So I say... I think I better leave right now,
♪ Before I fall any deeper
Press conference starts soon.
(song continues)
You dressed her yourself, you did her makeup.
I wouldn't dream of letting Rocky touch her.
Have you seen his fingernails?
And besides,
this is my final time seeing her, so for her restoration,
I thought she should look like the first time I saw her.
2004...
.. Annual Mortician's Ball.
I'm not sure anyone invited her, but there she was!
Across the dance floor dressed like that.
Biting her thumb nail and swaying her hips to this song.
(song continues)
Rose, I did not kill my wife.
I swear, I did not kill my wife.
The thing is, when people see a dead woman, they blame the husband.
So you have to go out there and convince them you're innocent.
Any advice?
Always tell the truth.
It's usually the easiest thing to remember.
♪
(chatter) (cameras flashing)
(clamour loudens)
Are you the screwdriver killer?
I'm here today to plead
with anyone who may have knowledge of what happened
to come forward.
"Hannah had forged a successful career in journalism,
which was going from strength to strength."
(snorts)
You know I met him a few times. He gave me the creeps.
He's not even crying. He did it.
Just because he's not crying doesn't mean he's guilty.
What about Ruby? What motive would he have for killing her?
No, I don't see it. You know what your problem is, Elvira? She doesn't know
the difference between an apostrophe and a quotation mark?
You're too easily swayed by sob stories, which, if you ask me,
is not exactly the best trait for someone on a crime desk.
"Now I know that many of you here are thinking the husband did it."
"Right?" Right... "So let me make this clear."
"I did not kill my wife."
Prove it.
Detective Mulcahy, if you would.
(voices clamouring on TV)
♪
"After recent break-ins in the mortuary,
we recommended that they install 24 hour CCTV cameras."
"On the night Hannah was killed,
Walter Eustace was working."
(voices clamouring)
"What about the night Ruby Conroy was killed?
Have you reviewed that tape?"
And the obvious connections between both murders.
We're not ruling out the possibility that both murders...
".. may have been committed by the same person.
What I can confirm is,
that Walter Eustace was also working that night."
"Double shift, in fact, which the CCTV footage has verified."
Now, if it's alright with everyone,
I'd like to get back to work.
(journalists voices clamouring)
Right folks, back to reality.
Emerson, four days out, how's it hanging?
Patsy is ahead 7 per cent in the polls.
He's gonna win. And get this,
we asked a focus group why they're voting for him
and they said he's the only candidate
who doesn't disagree with their beliefs.
That's because he doesn't have any!
Now, if anyone needs me, I'm off to see Walter Eustace.
There's no way he'll talk to you.
There's no way he'll talk to a crime reporter.
Someone writing his wife's obituary...
.. I think he'll talk to them.
Did you bake this? That depends.
Do you like it?
No.
It's too sweet for me.
Well, he's nothing if not honest.
I don't think it was love at first sight,
for either of us.
Honestly, the comforts of love
weren't something I was familiar with.
Okay, maybe too honest.
The love, I think, came later,
through endurance and hard work.
You see, in a relationship,
honesty brings you closer together.
Hannah asked if I wanted children, I said no.
She agreed, all she wanted was me.
In the end, in our own weird way,
our marriage was kind of perfect.
Because you told each other everything.
Otherwise you're lying to yourself.
Without pure truth,
real love does not exist.
I've gotta say, you've given me one hell of an opening paragraph.
What about you? Have you a someone?
A someone like Hannah and I?
Nearly. Well, make that nearly a yes.
You never know when one of you
might not walk through that door again.
(footsteps approaching)
Off out?
Oh, we're talking now, are we?
You haven't said a word in three days.
It's the final canvas so
I'm just making sure Patsy doesn't go off script.
And you're sure he'll win?
Which means he'll make that speech about Hughie and Dad.
And what Dad did.
What choice do I have? You could stop him.
(exhale)
That wouldn't be right.
Are you sure?
All I'm sure about is you.
About how much I love you,
and if this must be done then--
Where did that come from?
I've been waiting?
It's always been there.
And your Dad?
It'll break me in bits.
So just make sure you're there to put me together again.
♪
(door opening)
What'd you forget now? My manners.
I should've knocked.
Tea, coffee? Both, if that's doable.
I like my coffee with a teabag in it.
I must try that sometime.
Hannah's obituary.
I'm doing my best to do her justice.
What do you make of the husband, Walter?
Don't tell me that press conference was set up?
That he's your main suspect? Quite the opposite.
We checked his home phone, mobile records, laptop, PC,
work computer, GPS...
The man's clean, even his bank records.
Gives more to charity than he spends on himself.
And you came here to tell me this?
Actually...
I didn't.
While going through his call logs,
I took a look at yours.
Confined it to the night Ruby was killed,
the night your car was stolen.
Remind me, coffee first or teabag?
How about you sit down instead?
(spoon rattles)
(slurps)
Mm.
That's a map of Kilraven.
The three red dots, they're phone masts.
You see, you said you were here
when you called Oisín about your car,
meaning that call should've pinged the nearest phone mast.
Only it didn't, the call went through this phone mast instead,
the one nearest Ruby's house.
Now what does that tell us?
That you didn't make that call from here.
That you made it from...
near Ruby's house.
(sighs) Guilty as charged.
Guilty of what? Exactly.
What am I guilty of? Do you think I killed Ruby then Hannah,
is that what you're saying? What I'm saying is that you told a lie,
and I want to know why. Help me understand, Elvira,
then we can deal with whatever this is.
From memory, there are three ways
to get someone's phone records.
One, the person can consent.
Two, a judge can issue a court order, but that can be tricky.
Or three, a pal at the phone company
can slip them to you on the sly.
Now, I've no doubt Walter permitted you access to his phone records,
but me? You didn't even ask.
So where does that leave us? And bear in mind, I'm not judging,
but unless I get the judge's name I can't say anything.
Or I'd be aiding and abetting an illegal act,
and I wouldn't feel comfortable with that. If you don't tell me
what happened-- You'll keep hounding me until what?
What will make you stop because you should,
because you're wrong.
Unless I find the killer you-- You won't leave me alone.
(door closing) (Elvira sighs)
I just can't connect these two murders.
And I still can't sleep.
So there's only one thing to do.
I need to find someone to kill.
Let's see who's been misbehaving in Christine's files.
No way.
Walter Eustace.
I'd appreciate if you could read the opening
of my article,
make sure I've quoted you correctly.
This isn't an obituary. Oh, I'm not here as an obituarist.
I'm here as a crime correspondent.
These are not my words.
So you didn't call your wife...
'A gold digger, willing to take half of everything'--
Outside of you leaving-- 'Someone who married me for my money,
that never loved me.' I don't care what you have to say!
'That paid for the work I did at her mother's funeral
by spreading her legs, legs she now spreads for everyone but me.'
Uh, this is my favourite, 'She makes me feel small,
laughs at the way I say things,
flirts with every man she meets,
traipses around the house naked after a shower
just so the neighbours can see!' 'And I tried,
even asked her for children.
She said it would get in the way of her career.
Looking back now, the first time I saw her
was the happiest moment of my life, after that,
it's been all downhill.' And you're printing that?
Side by side with what you told me at our first meeting.
See, it's never the crime that trips up people like you,
it's the lies because lies, I'm afraid, have no alibi.
Is that even legal? I have a very understanding editor.
You got those quotes from my file.
I only told them to one person, Christine Churchyard,
my therapist. You stole my file. Funny isn't it?
With what she knows and she'd never go to the Guards.
Ask me, the woman's a sociopath. Takes one to know one.
Now, I'm obliged to give you a chance to defend yourself.
I need a quote. And I can't publish without one.
Look, I did not kill my wife.
Perfect.
So no more questions? (snorts)
Like you'd answer them. You never know.
Try me.
Like I said, I did not kill my wife.
But tell me what you think happened.
In a word, a smokescreen.
Due to your airtight alibi,
let's assume you hired someone to help kill your wife.
You knew that even with an alibi
they'd never stop looking into you.
So you, along with the person you hired,
made it a multiple murder,
created a motive,
not just the death of your wife, but the deaths of two women,
both of whom worked in the media.
Interesting concept.
It was about diverting suspicion,
which involved first murdering Ruby,
which of course would never lead back to you.
Then, when your wife was killed, everyone would wonder
why you'd kill Ruby, it makes no sense.
So now they're not looking for your wife's murderer,
but a serial killer with a fetish for journalists.
Will we take your car or mine?
Mm?
To the Garda station.
I presume you'll want to tell them everything you told me!
Maybe stick around to watch them slap the cuffs on,
snap a photo of Rose making her big bust.
I can't, I have to write the story.
My deadline is before the election results drop tomorrow,
I'll need every second I've got.
So what are you saying then?
I'm saying nothing. No, you're saying,
that you're not going to the Guards that--
There's a window here.
Time for me to get in my car, board a plane and disappear.
Of course, the Guards are probably watching me.
Actually, I have it on good authority
they're watching someone else.
Why are you doing this,
letting me go? You think I'm a killer.
It's my job to report the news.
Bullshit.
Fine.
There's a position up for grabs at work,
so it's imperative I'm first with this story,
that I beat the Guards to it.
If that results with you going on the lam, then...
I'll deal with the fallout later.
I've heard journalism is dog eat dog, but this takes the biscuit.
Look, my article goes online at midday tomorrow,
what you do with your time until then,
that's your business.
I can see it in your face, you're sure I'll run.
Why?
Because it's what I would do.
(car door thuds)
(engine turns)
(wipers scraping)
Though Kilraven has been shaken to its core by a spasm of murders,
nothing can prepare us for the truth about to emerge.
that our killer is not some distant monster,
but someone we all trusted. Trusted with what, you may ask.
Well...
.. with our dead.
This paper alleges that Walter Eustace,
Hannah's husband and our town mortician
ordered the killing of both Ruby and Hannah.
Driven by his desperate need for control,
Walter believed his carefully constructed smokescreen
would keep his dark secrets hidden.
And so, two women who had never crossed paths
were forever intertwined in our history.
Mr Eustace denied any involvement, saying,
'I did not kill my wife'.
Yeah, something's missing.
(phone buzzing)
The story's about to go live.
"A story that's your word against mine."
"No, what it needs is a full confession."
"I'm willing to tell all in person."
You were supposed to leave town.
"Change of plans."
I don't have much time.
(door creaking)
(door slamming)
(instruments clanging)
(tense music)
After our first meeting,
I confessed my undying love to my boyfriend.
Because of the lies you fed me about your marriage.
So no more lies, yeah?
The individual I hired,
I've never met him-- Did you not hear what I said?
All I got was a phone in the post with his number on it.
After that, everything unfolded as you said.
I gotta ask,
why a screwdriver and, please,
don't let it be the answer I'm expecting.
Because my wife was screwing around. There it is.
My first concern was how I'd pay him
without arousing suspicion.
He set up fake accounts abroad that looked like major charities.
Apart from a minor decimal point discrepancy,
they're indistinguishable from legitimate ones. All I had to do
was pay him in dribs and drabs. What about the phone?
No way.
The scalpel please.
What scalpel?
(instrument clangs)
Like I said,
a place they'd never check.
So that's it, the whole story?
Or so I thought.
You see, Ruby wasn't our first target.
We needed a journalist, sure and, well,
your name came up. What?
It was meant to be you until he called out of the blue
and said he'd locked onto a new target. Ruby.
I dismissed it at the time,
chalked it up to his better judgement.
But after meeting you and all that entails,
I grew curious.
So while fleeing town,
I called him.
You suffer from insomnia, yes?
He followed you, closely,
until you led him to Ruby's house!
He said you were, I dunno, stalking her.
He said he found you intriguing.
He wanted to see what you'd do. That's when he got the idea.
He'd murder Ruby instead with you watching,
and you did nothing.
(burst of shrill music)
He did tell me one more thing.
Something valuable.
While watching you, you stole something from that farmer,
Tom Quigley.
And what about Jodie Freeman?
Any ideas about him?
That singed hair under his armpit,
I figured it was from a taser but your boyfriend, Emerson,
smart cookie, when he came to me about that James Doe,
he said it was more likely from... a cattle prod.
What do you want? For you to know
that if I'm going down...
.. you're coming with me.
How's your deadline looking?
I'm pretty sure I've blown it.
See that that phone disappears.
(chilling music)
(lock turning)
(pained exhaling)
(voices talking)
Okay, we've got a few thank yous, a bit of policy talk
and then straight into your stuff okay, Hughie? Yeah.
(cheering, clapping)
I'm so sorry, Dad.
'Mighty man Patsy.' 'Sound Man Patsy.'
Good afternoon, Kilraven.
It's lovely to see so many of you here
celebrating this unusual victory. (whooping from crowd)
Our pleasure, Patsy.''
I have to say, it's an honour to be elected.
(cheering)
I also have to say it's a bit of a surprise to be elected
considering, you know, it's me. (chuckles)
(laughter)
Yeah.
First time voting,
I couldn't even vote for me self.
I looked down the list and I thought,
what does it say about me if I support this lad?
Instead of ticking a box, I drew a picture of a rabbit
dressed as Santa. (chuckles)
(crowd unease) 'Boo!'
Exactly. Boo.
You're angry. Talk like you did before!
Talk like what? I never talked!
And when I did, someone else told me what to say.
We figured out what you wanted to hear
and we served you up a feast.
(crowd booing)
I ran on drivel that looked good on a poster.
Honestly, half the time I was pished,
and the other half I didn't care.
'Then you should resign!' Resign?
It's a bit late for that. I kind of need the gig now!
I'm after getting a massive, fuck off loan from the credit union,
those posters don't pay for themselves.
Oh my God.
But what I'm saying to ye is...
In five years' time
when we vote again
let's demand better, yeah?
(crowd booing) Easy, easy. Good. It's okay.
Right, now, finally some substance.
Ladies and gentlemen,
at the back of this hall is a man who's been through the wringer.
And that man-- 'Let's get him!'
(crowd erupt in anger)
Get him back on track!
Jesus!
Get him out of here you mean? Listen to me,
will you calm down and listen!
Will ye listen to me for a minute?
There'll be other speeches, Hughie.
It'll happen.
Or maybe not.
Jesus. Balls to this.
Anarchy! Woo.
(bar room noise)
'Come on, drinks are on Pat, so...!'
I'm not going to let my Dad's name be sullied.
(gasp) I'm so sorry. It wasn't pricey.
You okay? Yeah, um, I'm gonna clean myself up.
I won't be long. Sure.
(dynamic music)
(fire alarm rings)
(French song plays)
Hello?
Ah. (gasping)
Guess what?
I changed my mind about Dad.
I don't think we should speak ill of the dead.
(gasping)
I'm, I'm a good person.
I, I don't deserve this.
(spluttering)
I don't deserve this.
Maybe.
Ah! (blood spurting)
But I'm making an exception this time.
(crowd noise)
Hey, hey, I've been looking for you, where are you?
Toilets, the alarm went when I had my top off.
"I couldn't run out." Okay! 'Go on back in now.'
Hey, they're calling us back in. Okay.
(door slams)
(exhales)
♪
(pub crowd noise)
False alarm.
Mm, someone's thirsty.
You have no idea.
(knocking)
(door opening, closing)
Heard you're back on obituaries.
The place for me, really.
So is this it?
We keep playing this game on and on?
The night Hughie was murdered I was at The Arms Hotel.
I have 50 plus witnesses who can verify-- I know.
I know. Then what?
The phone mast nearest your house. What about it?
Hasn't worked in nearly five years.
(scoffs)
It was a test. Your phone pinged the right mast.
So you lied to me.
Yeah.
And I also want to thank you...
For telling me Mick had a crush on me.
Err, if you hadn't,
I wouldn't be wearing this.
Congrats, Rose.
It's-- The smallest ring in the whole wide world
but, hey, he's hung like a horse so,
you know, swings and roundabouts.
So I take it you love him then?
You fuckin' journalists. What?
Always with the awkward questions, huh?
Hey, Rose. Yeah?
You'll catch this killer.
(chair creaking)
Hughie's obituary.
Yes, boss.
It's beautiful.
But there are a few instances
where you refer to her instead of him.
Oh sorry. Leave it with me.
I see you've called an emergency staff meeting.
Is Vivienne making you fire someone?
Worse.
She wants to kill the print edition, go digital.
Apparently she read in a magazine that it'll save money.
But instead it will kill the paper.
I even showed her data to prove it.
What will you do?
What she told me to do.
Argh! No please, don't!
N-none of this was my idea. She should be dead and she's not.
You're keeping her alive and you're using the paper
to make people think she's up and about. Why?
Let me begin by saying that every mother-daughter relationship
is complicated, okay? None more so than ours.
No...! (scream) (machine flatlines)
If I don't get some semblance of normality out of your mouth
your mother flatlines-- Okay! Okay!
(clunk)
(beeping stops)
When she got sick she wrote a new will.
Cut me out completely,
decided to leave everything to the cat. Why?
Well, I guess the queen of mean was fond of it.
No, why cut you out? She thought I was a fuck up.
That's not true. Oh, but it is. That you're a fuck up?
That she called me a fuck up in her will and cut me out completely.
Only this time, you know what, I didn't fuck up.
Sure, I started running the paper so that people
wouldn't question her absence.
Still, I could've run that paper into the ground,
exactly like she'd expect me to.
Only instead you started to like it.
Which meant taking everything I learned from her
and using it for good to turn the paper around.
She could never motivate the staff like I do.
Or get Patsy elected or the guts to get Hughie out of jail.
No, I know I made that paper better, Elvira.
I just know I did.
Circulation is up.
So this cat, what's it called?
Trouble.
Him and my dog were tearing strips out of each other.
They're in a pound now, living their best lives.
What's your big plan here? Like I said,
as long as she's alive, that dirty furball gets nothing.
That doesn't sound sustainable. Well, you got a better idea?
I'm all ears.
Hey, are you hungry? Can you cook?
I spent 18 months at Cullohill Cookery School.
Is that the place that burnt down? Why do you think my mother
thought I was a fuck up?
(cutlery clinking)
(sigh)
♪
Mm, I think I'm perimenopausal.
So, can I cook or can I cook?
That meal was worth 10 cookery schools burning down.
So what now? You'll ruin me?
Or is it money, because I'm a little short.
Every penny of the stipend I get goes straight to Bernadine.
The stipend? Who does it come from?
Mam's solicitor, Bernard Hausmann. I take it,
Hausmann has the most recent will.
Describe him to me. Penny pinching loner,
oddball, no friends, family.
I think I'd like some more wine,
if you wouldn't mind. Get it yourself.
What was that? On my way.
(wine gurgling)
Here's what's gonna happen.
For 1 euro each, you sell every paper your mother owns
to the staff at each of those papers.
As well as this, you'll make the editors the trustees,
give them the power. And how am I gonna do that?
How bad do you want this money, Vivienne? Real bad.
Well real bad costs.
And the solicitor? He's gotta go.
On holiday?
Oh!
Okay! Along with this,
the person who sees to the solicitor will make the new will vanish.
This means the previous-- Will, which is upstairs.
Will come into effect, giving all your mother's money to you.
Will it stand up in court?
If there's another possible beneficiary and they challenge it
then you might hit trouble.
Well, lucky for us Trouble will be no trouble.
So who's gonna do it?
What's that?
It's just one phone call you have to make.
ROSE: Lawyers like Bernard Hausmann don't usually apologise.
Sorry for what?
Rose?
You've got to see this.
Looks just like the bike from the night of Ruby's murder.
Sounds like we have our screwdriver killer.
So, what do you think?
It's a pretty cool look, right?
I'm a mortician, not a plastic surgeon.
That doesn't mean that she can't be buried with a bit of pizzaz.
Pizzaz? Pizzaz.
(pop) (cheering)
Well folks, we now own a newspaper.
Yay! There you go!
Alright I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't worry.
Now...
(waves crashing)
You're holding space on the front page and then pages 8 and 9.
I was gonna tell ya. You're writing about Dad, aren't ya?
Why?
Hughie, Lord rest him, it doesn't mean anything to him now.
It means something to me.
Because it's the truth?
What if it's not the truth?
Your job is safe, I've got your back.
But this has to come out.
So you're standing by the story?
100 percent.
That's a lot of percent.
We've been over this, Elvira.
Okay, we will get through this.
What do you mean, what if it's not the truth? It is the truth.
Is it?
Ward killed Maria.
Are you saying he didn't?
And Agnes Dunford too, Ward killed her so you could take her job.
And to get you paid,
he killed Sylvester McHugh and Veronica Sloan.
Elvira, he killed Sylvester and Veronica, yeah?
Elvira!
What?
He, he killed them, right?
What's going on?
Open your eyes.
Are you saying that if I print that he killed Sylvester and Veronica
I'll be wrong?
He's got to do this on his own.
I'll see you at home.
I...
It's, err...
I don't understand!
Then sleep on it!
(tense, insistent music)
Well, you slept like a log, nearly 20 hours.
I didn't want that thing waking you.
You didn't sleep? Nah.
I was up all night trying to figure out what to put on the front page.
Bad news, I'm afraid.
Looks like it's gonna be Kate's puff piece.
I think she wants to call it 'Barnyard Bling'.
Emerson... (knocking)
I'm gonna say this once
and once only.
I will not be made a fool of.
I don't wanna be known as the journalist
who shared his bed with...
Whatever you are. A killer.
And I can't be an accomplice,
in any form or fashion.
You know, if this is a...
uh... a need that you have then
we will... regulate it!
Vaguely, Jesus, I don't have the words for this. I-I do.
No just, just, please just let me finish. This is a needle,
I need to thread it. Right...
I need you to protect me, okay, nod if you understand.
And at the same time, we've come way too far to...
To...
I love you.
And you love me.
And that makes me the luckiest man alive.
I guess what I'm saying is...
I can...
I can, you know...
I can live with it.
Right, okay, I need you to go outside and come back in.
What?! Please, for me, just...
(door opening, closing)
(spoon scraping pan)
(cheery) Woah the dead arose, huh? You slept like a log!
Me, I was up all night trying to figure out... (voice fades)
(receding voices) Well, how about Kate's piece?
How bad could it be?
(birds singing)
And remember, it's a conference, not a two-day piss up.
Thanks Mum.
See ya.
(tense music)
(music builds)
'She's a liar, kiddo!'
'She's a professional liar!'
'Oh no, no! Please! Argh!'
(grunts)
(screaming)
From one angle I see a woman redecorating a house
she shares with her boyfriend.
From another angle, I see a killer covering up her mess.
Who am I kidding, I can't be two people at once
or else I'm nobody.
And I tried being nobody.
It didn't agree with me.
(phone buzzing)
ROSE: "Guess who's on the slab?"
Walter Eustace.
What happened to him? Collapsed at home.
Anything fishy about it?
"Not that I can see."
Ask me, considering what he's been through lately,
the man died of a broken heart.
Well, cheers for the heads up. I'll get someone on it.
(shrill music)
(distant voices)
(slow music)
If you love me, you'll let me go.
If you let me go, I'll never love anyone else.
Come looking for me, you'll make me angry.
Put me in danger,
even angrier.
And when I'm angry,
everyone's in danger.
(knocking)
There's a girl here who says she has an interview for the obit desk.
Send her in.
(percussive music)
An obituarist at this paper is a highly sought after position.
You'd be writing about celebrities, world leaders.
Frankly, the only reason you're here
is because of your letter of recommendation from Miss Birch.
So before we conclude,
tell me why I should hire you over everyone else?
What sets you apart?
Because, if I'm honest, I haven't seen it so far.
(scoffs) An obituary!
Cute.
My obituary.
Have you been following me?
Oh, there are things in here even my wife wouldn't know.
Good Lord.
I'm showing you that I can go above and beyond.
That's what sets me apart.
And what's in your hands there,
it's just for starters.
I'm going to need you to give a little nod of your head
so I know we're on the same page.
Good.
Now...
.. let's talk salary.
♪