Alias
Rendezvous

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The Paris Death Match
Regina: Oh, you're so smart, aren't you?
Wendy Kroy: Face it, sister. You don't need to be a brain surgeon to watch this damn show. We're in it for the ass-kicking and the sassy wigs.
Regina: True. But, really, it's not like SD-6 is a tiny one-bedroom apartment in Andersonville or anything, ya know? Like, there are eighteen-hundred square feet in this place and still Syd can't walk off without someone knocking into her? Such a pathetic plot device.
Wendy Kroy: Sweetie?
Regina: What?
Wendy Kroy: You're growling.
Regina: Well, it pisses me off.
Wendy Kroy: I know, baby. But remember our mantra while watching this show?
Regina: "There is no spoon?"
Wendy Kroy: That's right. There is no spoon. And there is no reality. Except, of course, the reality of another vodka and tonic. JULIO?!

So anyway, Syd gets knocked in the arm and winces with pain. Her attempts to hide her cringing from Dixon are totally transparent. Dixon totally sees it and gets this rather threatening look on his face. Syd's dead meat.

Aaaaaand…commercial!

The Haven For Injured Spies And Their Totally Clueless Roommates. Francie's getting ready to leave the apartment. She opens the door and is startled to see our very own Spy Daddy just standing there. His explanation is that he's there to give Sydney a ride, but really, he's there to debrief Sydney on everything he knows about the Denpasar operation right there in her apartment, even though, like, the whole place is probably ONE BIG RECORDING DEVICE.

Right. So. Spy Daddy's all, Denpasar was one jacked-up screw, Syd. Your whole slew of mommy issues is beginning to get in the way of your job. Syd's all, my navel is SO interesting right now. I think I'll just stare at it for a bit. Spy Daddy's all, Sloane still doesn't trust me, sweetie. Try thinking of me for a change, okay? And do you have any espresso? I forgot to stop at Starbucks on the way over. Syd's all, uh, no, but SD-6 nabbed Sark. Is that enough of a jolt for ya?

Interrogation Room For International Cuties. Sark's strapped to a chair, looking depressed but adorable. Sloane enters, looking delighted but dangerous. Sloane's all, blah blah blah I could totally torture you, but I won't. I'm curious about Khasinau. Sark's all, yeah yeah yeah, you and everyone else, buddy. Sloane's all, I need to find him. Sark's all, bully for you. Sloane's all, let's not play games, okay? Where is he? Sark's all, bring me a bottle of my favorite wine and we'll discuss.

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Alias

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