the seedy, disorganized small office, galvin in shirt-sleeves opening a file cabinet. he takes out an armload of files, carries them to a wastebasket and throws them in. he sits on his desk, as if exhausted by his effort, pours from a whiskey bottle into a large water glass, downs the glass.
galvin is sitting at his desk, a stack of files piled on his desk, he is sorting through them looking for something. the phone rings, he snatches it up.
galvin pacing. mickey seated. morose.
mickey on his feet, pacing. galvin at a blackboard on which is written, "dr. towler. dr. marx. admitting form. anaesthesia." etc.
mickey asleep on the couch, coffee containers around him, an ashtray full of butts. beat. we hear a telephone being dialed.