November 14th, 1974. “Messed up on my lines, ‘cause—‘cause I was hungover! I’m always—always messin’ everything up! Every—every goddamn thing!” Rick shouted, pacing around the living room. Cliff sat unbothered on the couch, blinking. “This about the divorce with Francesca?” Cliff asked, tilting his head. “N—No! I messed up on—on my—“ “Did y’take your anxiety meds?” Cliff interrupted, and Rick groaned. “No! No I—I didn’t take my goddamn meds, Cliff! I feel worse when I do!”