Severance

Devon! Devon!

No, no, no. Listen, we're not happy. We're miserable.

- - Burt!

They torture us down there!

Devon!

- We're prisoners! - Burt!

She's alive!

- -

I suppose you're Mark S.

- I-- - I'm Mark W.

Who are you people?

Would you be open to using a different first name

to avoid confusion?

Welcome back, Mark S.

Been a minute.

Where are they?

I think it's best to save any queries

till we arrive at the management office.

Were they fired?

You can leave the balloons in the foyer by my old desk.

We've much to discuss, and I don't want them distracting you.

I assure you, they won't be taken.

Mr. Milchick, please.

What you all did five months ago

was one of the most painful moments in the history of this company.

Five months?

I, too, was wounded by it.

But we must be cut to heal, mustn't we?

Wait, did you say your old office?

Mark, this is Miss Huang.

Miss Huang, Mark S.

Hello.

She'll be happy to mind your balloons while we chat.

Right this way, Mark.

You can shut it.

Is it normal for a child to--

Excuse the clutter.

Okay. What's happening?

Ms. Cobel is no longer with this company.

I now manage the severed floor.

What about my team?

We didn't fire them.

Helly R. and Irving B. both successfully made contact with persons on the outside,

just as you did.

Dylan G.'s outie learned what happened after the fact.

The four of you have achieved international fame.

As a group, you've become known as the face of severance reform.

- Severance ref-- - Have a seat, Mark.

Shortly before your mutiny, we installed security doors

to keep you in MDR.

This accompanied a punitive rendition of the Kier hymn performed by Ms. Cobel.

Do you recall?

I do.

I locked you in a room like an animal, Mark.

As an unsevered man,

I'll carry that knowledge the rest of my life.

But for the past five months,

we've been asking how a sadist like Harmony Cobel

could take fertile root in Lumon soil.

And what that says about us.

We also know Ms. Cobel was at your sister's home

when you awoke there.

Yeah. W-Why was that?

We believe she'd developed an erotic fixation on you

and had plans to pursue both you and your outie

in what might be termed "a throuple."

What?

Thankfully, she failed at this.

You still haven't told me where my team is.

We tried for weeks to get them back, Mark.

None of them agreed.

We told them of the reforms, but it wasn't enough.

Except for me?

Your outie insisted on returning.

In fact, he begged us to let him back right away.

So the others, they-- they refused?

Yes.

Well, I'd like to hear it from them.

That's not possible.

Enjoy your balloons.

Yeah. We-- We showed up about an hour before you did.

It's a little cramped compared to our old MDR,

but I love the green carpet.

Ours was a crème brûlée and the keyboards were puce.

They were purple.

No. They were puce. I know because it makes me nauseous,

and I hate sweets.

Speaking of which, how much do we see of that Mr. "Milkshake"?

Milchick.

What?

Uh, it's Milchick, not milkshake. And I don't know.

Marco, where I can find some ink, uh, pencils?

Uh, supply closet.

I'll show ya.

- So, did you really see the outie world? - Yeah.

How's the sky?

I don't know.

- What, you didn't see it? - Well, I went outside for a second,

but I was distracted by my brother-in-law.

Seriously?

Because we made a list of what we'd most like to see on the outside.

And, uh, sky was an easy number one.

Brothers-in-law weren't even on the list.

Grazie.

Could you tell what state we were in?

Because three of us put Wyoming on our input survey.

- Did you see any buttes? - No.

Oh, my God. How's wind?

Is it just like getting breathed on, kind of?

Hello, Refiners.

Hello, Miss Huang.

Oh, no. It's the ball game.

Let's head to the kitchenette.

Okay. So,

my name is Miss Huang.

It's my first day here as deputy manager.

I guess something about me is that before this, I was a crossing guard.

Mark W.?

Why are you a child?

Because of when I was born.

Right. I'm Mark W.

I'm from the MDR department of branch 5X,

where I worked with Gwendolyn Y.

Kind of a fun fact about me is that I thought I'd be permanently retired

when my branch shut down.

So this is a nice surprise.

Mark S.?

Okay.

I'm Mark S.

And, uh, I've been here about two years.

Something about me...

is...

that I am lucky enough to have made four new friends today.

- - That's nice, Mark.

But I have to remind you that I'm a supervisor,

not a friend.

Three new friends.

Okay.

Congratulations to our two Marks. And now...

What's your perpetuity wing like?

- Do the Eagans move? - Uh, no.

Huh. Probably because it's an older branch.

- Ours were animatronic. - Oh.

They even did this little choreographed dance.

So yours just stand there? That's weird.

In my first perpetuity wing, the Eagans were brooms.

Brooms?

- Each with a face made of a plate. - A plate?

We were very poor.

Did you guys have the CPR dummies?

- Yeah. - Hmm. What were those made of?

- Brooms. - Did you have an elevator?

We had-- How do you say, um, a rope.

Jesus.

I'm heading out. You good?

Yep. Just about to close out.

Ah, good. Thank you.

You know, my old team was a bunch of dirtbags.

We never hit quota. Not once.

But it seems like you really liked yours.

So, I'm sorry.

Good night, Mark.

Good night.

- -

Hey, everybody.

"Dear Outie,

I don't know if this will reach you, but I'm writing to alert you

of the heinous conditions in the severed office

to which you have transferred me.

The branch is run by a shambolic rube who goes by Milkshake."

Oh, my God.

"A man whose stupidity is rivaled only by that of the nine core principles.

If you must continue to send me here, please consider strapping a bomb to me,

so that I may explode both Milkshake and the very spirit of Kier Eagan.

Wrathfully, your innie, Mark W."

Oh, my God. That's... ...very serious.

Is it earnest?

Mm-mmm.

Do you really think I'm a shambolic rube?

Wait, you think I wrote this note?

Were you going to frame all of us or just Mark W.?

Clever way to secure the name for yourself, I suppose?

- I don't know why you hate this team. - I don't hate this team.

You didn't even disguise your own handwriting.

You know what? I don't even know who this team is.

I told you. I want my team.

Which part of that don't you understand?

Mark S., at this time, I revoke your status as Department Chief,

which will be transferred to your intended victim, Mark W.

I accept.

You will be relegated to the office

and must check in regularly as to your progress.

Do you even have a brother-in-law, asshole?

What's funny?

You don't know what I did to the kitchenette yet, do you?

Goddamn it.

Hey!

You're definitely not supposed to do that.

Mr. Milchick, I've got Mark S. in your office.

He's got the speaker.