The chapter opens with a past episode showing how June became "Hoss." Years earlier, when the Avallon’s sweetwater turned foul with the pervasive smell of ramps and Francis Gilfoyle was away, June orchestrated a hotel-wide response: she moved guests to a spontaneous outdoor dance and picnic, ordered pools treated, windows opened, and fireplaces drafted, and had newly engaged staff infuse the ballroom fountain with joy by collecting pennies. After she spent time privately in the oldest bathhouse, the air cleared; senior staff steadied her as she emerged, and Griff Clemons dubbed her "Hoss."

Back in the present, June leads a Winnet day on the expansive fields to counter rising anxiety after the failed journalist escape and collapsed repatriation hopes. She retrieves Winnet equipment labeled "HUDSON" with help from Erich von Limburg-Stirum and Johnny Hosokawa, noting their unlikely friendship with waiters Sebastian Hepp and Paul Eidenmüller. Staffing is thin due to inductions, so assorted Avallon employees teach the game to the various legations, who remain clustered by nationality.

June exchanges brief words with Border Patrolman Hugh Calloway and notes Tucker Minnick’s distant, watchful demeanor. As the game proceeds, she sees Sabine Wolfe sitting apart and approaches despite Tucker’s prior warning not to. Sabine, composed but strained, speaks about her past as an artist and, prompted by June’s empathy about childhood "fits," reveals a disturbing context: the German ambassador’s son, recently diagnosed with schizophrenia, is to remain in the U.S. under a quiet State Department arrangement because schizophrenics are being euthanized in Germany. Sabine implies Hannelore Wolfe may be endangered under such policies and admits she attempted silent calls to the State Department but lost her nerve under surveillance by Lothar Liebe, whom she identifies as Gestapo.

June offers to discreetly speak to State’s Mr. Pennybacker; Sabine agrees and stresses secrecy. They concoct a cover topic—complaints about the menu—when Lothar summons Sabine. Nearby, Sebastian Hepp lands a perfect Winnet shot that prompts spontaneous singing; the orchestra transforms the tune into “My Heart’s in the Highlands,” a moment that highlights the Avallon’s fragile idyll against wartime horrors.

The scene sours when a fistfight breaks out between two Japanese diplomats, a Border Patrol agent, and waiter Chuck Curtis, sparked by a taunt about the USS Lexington. June halts it swiftly, but the breach of decorum alarms her. Simultaneously, she notices an unusual proliferation of bright-colored snails—even on the bench where Sabine sat—echoing earlier signs of the water’s instability. Griff presents a muddy snail to June, and she absorbs the mounting signs: Mr. Francis’s death, the ominous laugh in Constancy, the unexplained splash, Sabine’s peril, and the Gestapo’s presence. She steels herself in her role as Hoss: Vive l’Avallon.