McNorris throws down the scalpel, opens his hands wide and walks stiffly as he says, "You think I planned this? You think wanted to be the kind of man who cheats on his wife? Look, my father -- my father, ugh!" Lordy, this is bad. This is terrible! Pointing, touching, gently touching, pointing, pointing, pounding of the fist. "My father. Huh. I have a wife downstairs. She is the most beautiful, most passionate, smartest and funniest woman I've ever met." Nice work, McNorris. What an asshole. Andrea asks, of course, with much rolling of the head, eyes, and tongue: "What am I?" McNorris, cinching his nomination for the First-Rate Asshole award, says, "You're you." Oh, thanks. "And I can't help myself. And neither can you." Oh, really? I think she's been not returning your calls. "So I want you to tell me that you don't want me," McNorris says. In a heartbeat, Andrea returns, "I don't want you, David." She then adds, "And sometimes I want to shoot other drivers on the freeway. Doesn't mean I have to do it." Um, huh? Is she saying he doesn't have to fuck her, or he doesn't have to stop fucking her? McNorris whips around, knocking something over to say passionately, "That's not what I'm saying!" No, I guess not, because I don't know what the hell she's saying. Man, this scene is taking forever! McNorris gets up close and delivers the easiest line ever written: "Look at my eyes and tell me you don't want me." "Why?" Andrea asks. "Because I'm addicted to you," McNorris says. I vomit all over my house, in every single container available. This soap-opera drivel is unforgivable! Graham Yost, what the hell are you thinking, writing something this bad? This is like watching a high-school duet acting scene. One that's going to take Third. "Just like a junkie's addicted to a bag of dope," McNorris says, his voice cracking on that last, ridiculous word. "I'm powerless," he says, his eyes pleading for someone to come in and rewrite this scene. "And I don't like that. So, if you want this to be over, I really need it to be over." The music makes a weird chime noise, like someone got a wish granted, as Andrea's eyes dart back and forth, conveying "confusion." Andrea's gigantic text messenger begins making an alarm noise. She opens it and reads. "Ambulance has been hijacked," she explains. "I have to go." McNorris stops her with an "excuse me?" He stares at her as she stops at the door. "Are we done here?" he asks. Andrea stares at the door for a three count, and then flips around, her hair whipping back, her hand on her hip. The music fades away dramatically. Andrea counts to three. "We're done," she says, and whips back out of the room. McNorris bites his lip and stares at the floor. Terrible.