Ovary Electric, Part Deux. Syd and Agent Sean are tits-deep in what looks to be a very expensive bottle of tequila while Patsy Cline warbles soulfully across the soundtrack. Don't email me that it wasn't tequila, either. I don't care. So, Syd and Agent Sean are getting well and truly hammered. Great. Everyone's hammered except me. I wish I were dead.
Syd's all, salt, suck, slam, there are advantages to losing all your crap in a fire. (Except, of course, for all the crap that she forced Agent Sean into shoving all around her new pad. Except for that boxed crap she didn't lose, right? RIGHT?) Agent Sean's all, salt, suck, slam, oh, yeah, right. Syd's all, no but there is! There are advantages to being dead for two years! Think of all that paper! Clippings and yearbooks and sweaters I was never gonna wear…Agent Sean just watches Syd drunkenly. Hee. They both make cute drunks. SO DO I.
Agent Sean opens his mouth and places his size eleven trainer directly into it when he pipes up, "Yeah, but there must have been something that you had that you just loved, that it just kills you that you don't have anymore." Nice one, Sean. Syd goes all weepy-eyed. God. We. Get. It. You lost Vaughn. GET IT. Vaughn's married. ALSO GET IT. Lord, I can't wait for this one to end so we can get to the episode with Justin Theroux in it.
Yeah, so, Agent Sean's all, I meant a THING, you know, not a PERSON. Syd's all, yeash, I gotsh whash you mean. Hic. Syd sloshes her way through her announcement that her mom gave her a first edition of Alice in Wonderland that she always treasured, no matter how rocky the mother/daughter relations wound up being. Agent Sean tucks that nugget away in his memory stores for future reference. Then he makes a final toast to…the elephant in the room. By that he means Syd going to work with the Vaughns tomorrow. Nice toast, Sean. Remind me to book you as my best man at THE WEDDING FROM HELL. He kind of redeems himself when he declares that he's going to be her friend in there, at the CIA, if she needs him. Syd smiles beautifully at him. "Tomorrow's gonna be fine," she says. Then, almost to herself, "Dammit." Then they both slam their shots.
Regina: I'd be thinking everything was gonna be fine too if I'd just DOWNED HALF A BOTTLE OF TEQUILA.
Wendy Kroy: You are so bitter when you don't drink.
Regina: Oh, bite me, gay boy.
Wendy Kroy: Okay, you need a vodka enema. STAT.