As Vaughn continues in a voice-over, we see a flashback to some CIA guys in full regalia walking into the safe house. "By the time they got there," Vaughn says, "it was abandoned. It was wired with four pounds of C-4." One of the guards trips a wire, and the whole place blows the hell up. Back with the young lovers, wherever they are, Vaughn carves a few more troughs into the front of his skull and says that, in light of the tragedy, the director's ordered a halt on the search. "So for the moment," he says, "Marshall's on his own."

Different Dark Dungeon Of Dental Dementia. Marshall's back. Only, instead of being strapped to a chair with goop dripping down into his mouth, he's sitting at a computer, looking none the worse for wear. Oh, except for the rivers of sweat running down his face. While I sympathize, like, ew. Get the guy a towel or something. One of the minions is pointing a gun at the back of Marshall's head, which Marshall's finding less than comforting. "You think maybe he could point that somewhere else?" he spluts. SDAP just glares at him from his Wheelchair Of Doom. "All right," Marshall continues splutting. "It's not...it's...um...feelings! Nothing more than feelings! Trying to forget my feelings of loooooooove!"

Pathetic Plot Device Diner. Will's draining bottles of ketchup as Foolio sits across from him, wondering why the makeup department decided that today was the day to try out the retro-'60s sparkly blue eyeshadow and the sluttish red lipstick on HER instead of on that extra in the disco scene that comes later in the episode. Make-up Department? Ringling Brothers called. Their circus clowns want their make-up back.

Foolio and Will are discussing the idea of impending war in the Middle East and what part Kim Jong Il will play in the whole fiasco when the writers show up, knock back a couple of shots of lighter fluid, set fire to their heads, and start screaming at Foolio and Will to STOP WITH THE INTELLIGENT, THOUGHT-PROVOKING DIALOGUE AND GET BACK TO BUSINESS, GODDAMMIT!!

Knowing that her current palette of makeup is more flammable than a pair of Frederick's of Hollywood crotchless panties, Foolio wisely decides to inform Will that Syd's sleeping off yet another business trip. Will's all, uh, yeah, right, uh, what's with the flaming head guys? Foolio's all, I don't know, dude, but maybe they'll put themselves out if I keep bitching about Sydney's fucking job, so just go with me on this one. Will's all, yeah, okay, whatever. It's just...do you think ketchup can put out flames? Foolio's all, dude? What'd I say? The whole job thing, okay? Like, it never ends! Will, finally getting with the program, is all, oooooh right! Job thing. Yeah. That used to bug me too. But, like, it's important to her, okay? Do you think this is working? Have they put their heads out yet? Foolio's all, shhhhhh! Ever since Danny died, all she does is work. But, like, there's this new guy.