Zurich. Land of Accurate Timepieces and Soothsayer Sociopaths. We're in Sloane's office as some random chick rattles off some useless life-saving information to Sloane -- who, it should be said, is sporting a wireless earpiece that just makes him look like the sixth member of a geriatric *NSYNC. Another random chick, this time in the form of a guy, enters and throws some shit down for Arvin to sign. The phone rings; Arvin answers and says, "Send him in." We can only assume it's our very own Spy Daddy.
Sloane dismisses his lackeys and Jack enters, looking all sorts of hot in his dark suit. Really. Victor Garber does a suit right, people. Especially when he's being ridiculously snarky, as he is right now. "A world relief organization," he sneers. "The sheer audacity of your alleged turnaround would be laughable, if you weren't so dangerous." Hee. Oh, hee hee hee. Sloane's all, I was wondering when you'd come to see me. I'm sorry, but when did Sloane suddenly become Alias's version of Google? (Thanks to Insilliarus for that analogy, by the way.) Need an answer? Go to Sloane. Need a prediction? Go to Sloane. Can't find decent bars in Savannah? Go to Sloane. Looking for autopsy instruments? Go to Sloane. Checking into the whole Rambaldi theorem? Yeah. Check with Sloane. Really. I hope Sloane's charging for these little visits; he could make a killing. Oh, but he's already done that! Oh, ha ha! My sides!
Jack's all, dude. You don't really expect me to believe that you've changed, right? Sloane's all, dude. I expect you to believe in the consistency of my obsessions. Then he blah blahs about his whole thirty-year Rambaldi obsession and how he never expected the message to be one of peace. Jack takes a drink of Diet Coke, and he then spits it all over the room. "Personally, I would have found it anticlimactic," he snits, after wiping the Diet Coke off his mouth, "that after expecting to assemble a weapon of ultimate power, you ended up with a revelation you could have acquired from a…fortune cookie." Oh, that is just prime grade-A Spy Daddy there.
There's a moment here where you can hear the air streaming out of both men's flared nostrils. I'm not kidding. "I've missed you," says Sloane with that smile of his. "I've missed you too, you little pisher!" says Jack, running over and pulling him into an embrace and giving him a knuckle to the head. Or he just walks over and says that he believes Sloane's responsible for Syd's disappearance, and that he should cut the shit and tell him why right now. "Give her the peace of mind she deserves," Jack says, "and in exchange, I'll halt my efforts to invalidate your pardon agreement."