Oh, God, another big event with Sagramore at its center. Janet sits up a little straighter, eyeing Laertes. It's really not his fault that he got caught in the crossfire there, and honestly, she's survived worse -- or, at least, weirder. She's listened to Alice revenge-fucking Penny and laughed it off with Eliot.

"Okay," she says slowly. One question at a time, maybe. There are about a million dishes she could ask for. She's from Los Angeles. But nobody will have to know how sentimental it is of her to request this specific one. "Let's go with pasta amatriciana, because I assume you're not going to take I'm fine, actually for an answer." Stalling tactic successfully deployed.