Cut to Darryl's Big Fat Stupid Subplot. His office at Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, is a shattered mess of broken doorknobs and filing cabinets and furniture. Whatever.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe wanders in and gazes sadly at Chronic's empty, darkened office, only to find him ambling through the swinging glass doors when she turns to leave. They banter about his cancelled trip to Rome and how that might affect the sale of his grandfather's NO ONE CARES! DO YOU HEAR ME? NO ONE! SHUT UP, CHRONIC! SHUT! UP! Chronic finally admits that he's not afraid of what he feels for the Feebs, but he is alarmed that she always seems to be aware of those feelings long before he understands them himself. She apologizes. He basically repeats what Piper said a few episodes ago -- that he wants to be able to express himself in his own time -- and as they move in for a clinch, he admits he loves her, I fall into a coma, and we fade to black.
Next week, we head to the future for a little backstory on my husband and discover that The Doltine Psycho's grown up to become Mangy Jesus. It's the last episode before the mid-season hiatus, so savor it. Heh. "Savor." I really have to cut that shit out.