"I... I don't know," Astrid stammers, stepping back. Far from being afraid of Donald's anger, she's afraid, instead, of the concept that Olivia would be going after the other Observers. She digs in her pocket for her comm, casting a guilty glance toward October, before dialling the number. She chews her lip as it rings.

After a few beats: "Olivia? Olivia, don't hang up." She paces away from them. "Yes, Peter's here. No, he's not in the room... Olivia... I know you asked me not to call you but--" A few beats. "Yeah. Yeah, listen, Donald says that-- Well, yes... no, I'm not--Olivia... Olivia... Olivia." A breath. Well, at least one thing hasn't changed--Olivia still steamrollers conversations. "Okay. It's all I wanted to know. Thank you. Wh--okay. Bye."

Beep. She lowers the phone.

"Well... she's not." Astrid steps forward and leans against Donald.