Tyler screens a virtual tour of a state-of-the-art prison facility. He's speaking to the Wolf Lake elders, trying to convince them that such a facility will bring big money, new roads, and a horde of jobs for the good people of Wolf Lake. But then he points out that they can also lock up outsiders, meaning that most of the new jobs will go unfilled because Wolf Lake's population of approximately ten shapeshifters is already employed. Ty doesn't point out that part, but that's why I'm here. Anyway, he says that other rural counties have brought prisons to town to increase prosperity. "One big cage, huh?" Cates grunts. "Society's most violent offenders, right in our own back yard." Newsflash: they're already there. Wolves aren't exactly benevolent killer-carnivores. Ty eagerly says they can build it with local contractors, staff the kitchen with folks from local restaurants, and let a local person run it -- namely, Ty himself. "Humph," Cates says eloquently. "Our land is sacred. Pristine." Ty argues they can spare the acreage, and that it's time to use the land rather than wait for something better. "We have our legs wrapped around a rocket here. What the hell is it still doing on the ground?" Ty argues. Vivian smirks. She had her legs wrapped around that rocket last night. Cates nods, then offers crumbcake to the assembly. Ty looks pissed.
A hand shakes Sophia awake. It's Luke, freaked out and panting. "I didn't know where else to go," he says, near tears. He breathlessly confesses they might've killed someone. At that moment, Donner knocks on his daughter's door and she manages to deflect his questions about the noise -- but by then, Luke has already fled through the window. Incidentally, to do it, he'd have had to run past the opening through which Sophia spoke to her father, but whatever. What's logic got to do with it? Sophia looks royally bummed that she missed out on a chance to be alone with a boy in her bedroom.
Sherman bangs on Lou's door. "Heard you were sick, so I hustled right over," he grins. "What, you don't see it as neighborly?" Lou is still sweating. He makes a laborious crack about how it would be neighborly if they lived in Iowa, but they don't. The Pacific Northwest is getting such a bad rap here. At least Lou has one thing right: they are in Wolf Lake. Sherman whips out a double cappuccino -- for himself -- and a bottle of extra-strength aspirin. So much for holistic healing. He also brought a thermos full of chicken soup, and Lou is as touched as Lou can be when he's glaring his hyper-suspicious eyeballs clean out of his skull. Sherman pops a pill and lamely mentions his drunk night out with a toothless palm reader wearing surgical stockings -- see? I told you it was bad. It's like the writers have those vocabulary fridge magnets and just pull them out of a hat, string them together, and write the dialogue. "Do yourself a favor," Sherman advises. "Get that in your bloodstream as quick as you can."