Lindsey's getting the once-over at the Frankenstein Clinic. A doctor enters and introduces himself as Dr. Melman. Melman goes over Lindsey's paperwork and notes that he had "all the usual childhood diseases." Lindsey decides not to go into how his immune system got quite a workout when his siblings were dropping like flies at the old homestead, not to mention how he developed an incredible resistance to pneumonia by walking to school barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways. Melman asks whether Lindsey has any questions, and Lindsey off-handedly wonders if the doctor would like to share what exactly his plans are. Melman's surprised that Number Two didn't mention it, and notes that "they have a funny sense of humor over there." It seems that Wolfram & Hart help fund the clinic, and so they were able to move Lindsey "to the top of the transplant list." Melman says, "This is cause for applause," which rhymes, and says that Lindsey will be clapping along at the next hoedown in no time.
Commence the artsy surgery. Blurry jump cuts convey Lindsey's point of view. Surgeons gingerly bring out a plastic hand they bought at the novelty store. Melman says, "You're doing great, Lindsey. Where's the Pockla?" About that time, a demon with long talons appears in one of the Senior Partner's borrowed robes. It fades in, glides over to the operating table on roller-skates, and makes with the spooky chanting. The seams on Lindsey's newly attached limb heal and fade into a light scar. With a final -- and I quote -- "Phhhssshht!" the demon finishes its work and glides off into nothingness. Melman cheerfully orders that Lindsey be moved to post-op.
Gunn is still working the phone at the Hyperion, while Cordy cleans in the background. Angel strolls in and quietly asks Gunn how Cordelia's doing. Dude, she's five feet away. Gunn says, "She grunted once around noon, then got on with the maniacal cleaning." Wesley joins the conference, declaring that he found "more nothing than usual." The gossipy old biddies confer for a moment, and determine that they'll just have to ask Cordy for more information. She's. Five. Feet. Away. Now I can understand why Cordelia thought she was being the epitome of discretion last week, when she at least went into a different room to talk about Harmony. Wesley encourages Angel to speak to Cordy, and Angel replies, "Me? You're the one in charge now." Wesley reluctantly agrees, starts to walk past Angel, then spins and adds, "That's why I'm assigning this one to you." See, this is the sort of thing that encourages me to hate Wesley even more. Because now I feel sympathy for Angel, and that's just wrong. Stupid Wesley.