At first glance the dish that Rebecca orders certainly looks like a dish out of Daniel Humm’s kitchen—minimal only in that it looks quite simple but everything on that plate is about to blow the socks off your taste buds. From afar it almost looks exactly like the golden apple served on the side of his honey-lavender duck, stuffed with a farce made out of the bird’s offal and legs. But upon closer inspection, this seems to be an actual apple, next to some sad chicories and two splayed chives. This apple is resting within what looks like a puff-pastry crust, though it is a sage leaf and not a mint leaf poking out which would indicate that it’s a savory dish. Perhaps we’ll just have to go investigate for ourselves but for the time being, let’s forget about this strange appropriation of Humm’s classic and focus on the dish itself, separate from its creator. The apple is being used here as a signifier for Rebecca’s unassuming, Eve-like threat to this testosterone-fueled finance bro.

After the EMP mission, we’re back at Bruno’s, once again with the same crew. And once again, Wendy and Axe sit diagonally from one another, as they do at Una Pizza, with Rebecca taking Chuck’s place and Wags taking Rebecca’s place. With Chuck emotionally (and physically) a million miles away, Wendy is in need of a new anti-hero to steer to the top through whom she can live vicariously guilt-free. Similarly, in this situation, Wags is more suited to provide Axe with the support that he needs. At Una Pizza Rebecca was able to fulfill this position, smoothing things over when Wendy had an outburst over Chucks...well...outburst, but this time around, she’s on the other side of the table being handled. So much hidden meaning can be gleaned simply by observing body language, and the specific placement of individuals at a dining table. Much like the hierarchical chain of seating options in what is soon to be a full sedan (the front seat obviously goes to the main bud, and the back middle seat is least desirable, but nevertheless, someone must be foisted with it), the seating arrangements at tables in this show are always intentional and carry significant meaning. How could body language not be taken into account in the writing of a show that’s so completely dominated by dialogue, drinking, and dining?