Marisol, a loveable but corrupt politician, is living up the last days before her arrest in a hotel room, partying, snorting coke and bevvying. An older woman with movie star shades, a coiffured do, and bling on her fingers, she’s like AbFab meets Del Boy.
Amparo is the only one not out her tits, and draws Marisol aside when the political staffer bros decide to take their circus outside for some food now the sun’s up. Amparo tries to plead with Marisol sincerely to run. She suggests a plan where Marisol can lay low in a friend’s hotel in Mindanao in the Philippines.
Marisol is hilarious, still talking shite while marockless. As she slowly comes round to face the subject, she demurs that she’ll have no one in the Philippines. Amparo says she’ll come with her. Marisol caresses her cheek tenderly and says she couldn’t destroy her life, ask her to give up everything to live in hiding with her.
Besides that’s not who Marisol is. And she wants to go on as herself, even if she is afraid of what’s to come. To that end, she asks Amparo to come downstairs and have breakfast with her in the hotel restaurant. Who cares who will see them? What does it matter now? They go down, arm in arm, as the lovers they clearly are, and Amparo faces what is to come with Marisol, both of them as themselves.