Cut to Michael in the uniform, accessorized with his sunglasses and a respirator mask around his neck, as he stands in the doorway of Bill Johnson's confused-looking landlady. He tells her to send the vet bill to the address he just handed her (probably Carla's old building) and acts like he feels bad about his accidental "spill." He adds in a surfer-patois, "From what I hear of pets, the little pads on their feet just sucks it up [sic] like a straw. You don't want your little loved one here to be paws-up next to the water bowl, so..." Noticing that she's a pretty dire-looking specimen close up, he adds the vet will take care of both of them, and grins into her double-take. He doesn't seem too worried that any of this is going to get back to Bill Johnson, does he?
And while back waiting in his car with Sam for the landlady to leave, he's gotten a start in his "lifework" with the first of five items: "Outfitted me with a cover ID." The therapist will like that. As they watch the landlady scamper out with her dog and drive off, Sam gives Michael props. "I don't know where you come up with this stuff," he chuckles. Moments later, Sam and Michael are both inside Bill Johnson's bedroom. Lucky for them, he's not home either. Sam plants a bug while Michael searches for clues. What he comes up with is hidden under the drywall behind a loose section of baseboard, and it's a Carla-style crossword puzzle, which has conveniently already been decoded for them; "Fourth floor conference room" is written in the margin. "She should try the jumble," Sam comments. Just then Michael gets a call on his cell phone from Larry, just checking in and suggesting once again that they resolve the Drew situation Larry-style, as in, "Let's kill everyone." Michael calms him down and hangs up, and Sam makes a crack about Larry having a thing for Michael. "That's because he doesn't have any friends," Michael says. "That's because he's killed most of them, Mike," Sam says. With that, they're done with Bill Johnson's room, apparently confident that his landlady isn't the type who will tell her subletter about every little thing that happened to her during the during the day, let alone a suspicious exterminator who showed up to suggest she and the dog clear out for a few hours. Or, if she is, that Bill Johnson isn't the type to think anything of it despite being a person who uses laundry blueing on his garbage.