Cordy asks several guys, "Did you ever see anyone come in who looked suspicious? Or really pale? Or maybe green and scaly?" The guys turn and look at each other meaningfully. A blipvert attacks before we can see them kiss.
Phil informs Angel that all three victims attended the same evening Pilates class. Angel asks whether Pilates is anything like Tae-Bo. Phil chuckles, "Yeah, if you're living in 1999." I think that was supposed to be funny. I'm just trying to figure out how Angel heard about Tae-Bo. I mean, the "oh that wacky out-of-touch Angel" gags have him making more and more contemporary references. It's confusing.
Angel strolls through the Pilates class, and the instructor fails to ask what on earth he's doing in their class. Angel walks over by the window, looks out, and sees a flash of light reflecting through a window across the street. The light flashes again, and we can tell that it's reflecting off a pair of binoculars. Angel notes that the building is part of the "Montserrat Retirement Community."
Cordelia has gathered an even larger crowd of healthy young men to question, and is asking for their phone numbers in case she has "follow-up questions." Angel walks up and informs her that he wants to check out the retirement home across the street. Cordy replies, "Bye." Angel starts to leave, then leans back to add, "Maybe when you're done with your work here, you can pick me up." Cordy smiles tightly, and as Angel departs, informs the guys, "He's just someone I work with."
In the retirement home, Angel knocks on the door of room 316. Visiting hours sure run late at this place. A card on the door reads "Marcus Roscoe." The door opens, and it's Rance Howard! Who's been in, like, everything. Angel introduces himself, hands over a business card, and manages to wheedle an invitation into the room from Marcus. Angel heads over the window and asks whether Marcus spends any time enjoying the view. Marcus starts to deny it until Angel picks up the binoculars. Marcus oozes folksy charm as he admits that looking is "about all [he] can do," and asks what Angel wants. Angel pulls out the newspaper printouts and asks whether Marcus remembers seeing any of the guys. Marcus says he's more of a girl-watcher. Marcus looks down at the clippings again and says, "Jeez, they all died? How?" Angel explains that he's trying to answer that question. He says, "I'm a private investigator; I work with a team." What an odd thing to say. "I work with a team!" Bully for you, pal. Marcus says, "I was a salesman, worked alone for fifty years." Angel purses his lips and gets an inexplicably smug expression as he looks over at some trinkets on a bookcase. He walks over, picks one up, and says, "Nothian herb jar. That's a pretty exotic item. Did you deal in the occult?" Marcus replies, "Occult, shma-cult." He claims that he picked up some "trinkets" in his travels. Then Angel eyes a pile of magazines. The only one we can see is about skiing, which makes Angel's next question, and its suspicious tone, especially jarring: "Do a lot of bungee jumping, Mr. Roscoe?" How dare an old person read about sports! He's up to something! Marcus replies, "More than you might think, Mr. Angel." Angel says, "It's just 'Angel.'" Marcus says he'll remember that, removes his glasses, and starts the mystic chanting. Angel, who can't decide whether he's supposed to have figured out what's going on yet or not, chuckles, and says, "You might want to think twice before trying to cast a --" He's cut off when he and Marcus trade glowy colored blobs of light. So Angel thinks magic won't have an effect on him? Has he noticed that he owes his existence to magic? The beams stop; Marcus looks at Angel and, confused, announces, "You are me." Angel head-butts Marcus and sets him down in a chair.