Scraggle is puttering around his music store when suddenly he notices Sarah standing in the doorway with an injured look on her face. "Hey, how long have you been standing there?" Scraggle asks. Instead of answering, Sarah decides to take the prosecutor's stance: "I don't understand you. You say that you don't want to get involved with me, because I have these expectations. Because I want too much from you. Because I care too much how you're choosing to live you life, and then I find out that you've been sleeping with Joss --" Scraggle tries to interrupt, but to no avail; Sarah continues, "And it apparently works because it means absolutely nothing to either one of you. See, I don't get that." Scraggle tells her that it's not really a relationship, it's an "arrangement." Sarah asks, shocked that he'd chosen to sleep with Joss over her, "And that's what you want? An 'arrangement'? That's what you'd prefer to being in love? Just a warm body in your bed?" Scraggle says, "It serves its purpose." Sarah, getting more and more pissed off, says, "So Joss can have you because she doesn't care about you, but I can't because I do?" Dude, hold it right there. Where does she get off saying that Joss doesn't care about Scraggle? In fact, where does she get off questioning any of this? Sarah, take a memo: pack up your ideals, your so-called morals, and your holier-than-thou opinions and get your simpering, giggling ass back to San Francisco. Stat. Scraggle, like the wet noodle he is, doesn't respond to Sarah's last question. "God, who wins in that scenario, can you explain that to me?" Sarah asks. Scraggle starts to say something, but Sarah interrupts him yet again: "Wait, on second thought, don't. Forget it. I don't want to hear some pathetic rationalization that you've spent years working out." Scraggle asks her where she's going, and she tells him that she is getting her stuff and going elsewhere. Scraggle whines, "Come on, it's New Year's." "Yeah," Sarah says, meaningfully, "yeah, and I thought we'd celebrate it together. But what would be the point? What would we toast? I don't know what to wish for you, Maguire, and I don't really think you want to have a happy New Year's because that means really wanting to be happy. I think that's a little more than you can handle." And she flounces out the door. Man, what a bitch.
So, if she can't have her man, I guess her best friend in New York's man will do just as well. At J.B.'s apartment, Sarah is cleaning up the kitchen. J.B. protests that she didn't have to do that, and Sarah says it's her way of thanking him for letting her stay there. "So this thing you're going to tonight, pretty fancy, huh?" Sarah asks, eyeing the dress shirt he brought home from the cleaners. Oh, are we wheedling for an invite? No dice -- J.B. tells her it is fancy, and that he will probably be gone the majority of the night, so she should have the place to herself and should she feel like celebrating, there is beer in the fridge. Feeling a bit salty, Sarah? I love it. Sarah is visibly sorry for herself as J.B. goes about his business.