As the doctors wheel Vaughn into an operating room, Syd starts freaking out once again and crying. Nurse Reamy wisely won't let Syd follow Vaughn into the operating room. As Nurse Reamy kind of looks over Syd's shoulder, she tells her that her designated cover is that she's with the State Department Bureau of Arms Control and that her name is Rita Stevens. "Give no details about his illness," she spews before running off. See? Why wasn't Nurse Reamy taking Vaughn's blood and handing it over to Syd? She knows who Vaughn is! I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it really does. I mean, it's not like the show is a prime example of reality or anything. But, like, IT'S BUGGING ME.
After Nurse Reamy leaves (bye, Reamy!), Syd turns and is suddenly confronted by a woman who resembles a more sedate version of the Meg Ryan character in Addicted to Love. She's all weepy and worried and we really don't care because this is "Alice," Vaughn's previously assumed fictional girlfriend. I don't care what anyone else says; this girl looks about ten years OLDER than Vaughn, and I find it hard to believe that First Mate Forehead would wind up with anyone as namby-pamby as this moany little Girl Scout with the frosted pixie haircut.
At the announcement from Alice that she's Vaughn's girlfriend, the expression on Syd's face is priceless. She goes from shock to surprise to bewilderment to composure in about two seconds flat. As Alice sobs off down the hall, Syd turns to her inner contemplation coping device and turns it up a few notches to eleven. I'm sure she'd feel much worse if she weren't under such heavy sedation.
Uncle Arvin's Office Of Optional Sanity And Dead Wives Who Just Won't Remain Dead. Okay, so, as I promised the extremely dedicated posters, I'm going to attempt to use all of the suggested nicknames for Captain Cuckoo because, in all honestly, all of these Sloanemclatures (tm Wagster) cracked my shit up so heavily that I often was in danger of wetting my pants. Enjoy it while you can, people. Once Arvin The Aardvark gets his mental mojo back, which we all know he will, the fun with whacko nicknames will most likely end. I mean, that is, until one comes along that's just so damn funny and makes me laugh so hard that my neighbors start calling the local nuthouse because the silly bitch on the third floor has definitely lost every last one of her marbles and needs to be committed immediately.
Right. So. Uncle Arvin's Office Of Optional Sanity And Dead Wives Who Just Won't Remain Dead. Jack enters and spews out some stupid shit about Triad and the Armenian border, and it's really just his quick-thinking cover for Syd and her antidote-grabbing butt. Lieutenant Lacking Pants just looks over at Jack like he could really give two shits about wherever the hell Sydney is, and proceeds to mention the whole empty Auntie Em grave situation.