The evening does indeed find them at dinner, looking out at the police car from their table at... Carlito's. Obviously Fi's a little disappointed at the venue, after Michael promised to bring her someplace nice. "I said that when I thought we were going to be five grand richer," Michael reminds her. Oh, like he would have taken the money anyway. So Fi gets back at him in typically mature fashion by ordering the most expensive dessert on the menu. Her "date" becomes even more disappointing when Sam plops himself down in the seat next to Michael, resplendent in a bright pink shirt and expositing that he's getting audited. At least Paxson isn't behind this. "Something about deducting mojitos," Sam sighs, and comments on the police escort he couldn't help noticing outside. Michael says it's going to get someone killed. You know, Michael, it's okay to just be annoyed by stuff once in a while. Not everything has to be life and death. Sam says he's been trying to find some dirt on Paxson to get her to back off, but she's "too clean to blackmail." Fi's giant dessert arrives, and Sam realizes something's up. "Is this a date?" he asks, shocked at the very idea that Michael and Fi might be trying to act like a normal couple. And understandably so. Michael answers in the affirmative and Fi answers in the negative at the same time. Having heard the answer he was hoping for, Sam asks the server for another spoon so he can share the dessert. Fi looks annoyed, as though eating that whole thing herself wouldn't double her weight.

Next day, Michael is in his Charger, leading his escort around the city. He VOs, "When you're being followed by the police, it's important to remember that having cops around is a problem for criminals. But it's an even bigger problem for a detective trying to remain inconspicuous on a stakeout." And it seems that's just what Detective Paxson is doing as Michael gets out of his car and sits down across from her at a sidewalk cafe. Don't ask me how he found her; she's not only not advertising her location, she's looking almost unrecognizable in a flowery sundress. Maybe she raided the section of the show's wardrobe closet that's marked "Michael's Female Clients" and he tracked her from there. "Are you on a stakeout?" he whispers faux-innocently, ignoring her insistence that he make himself scarce before his escort scares off her target. "Do you need help with your cover ID? I could be a fellow coffee lover, a boyfriend, anything you need." She tells him she's on another case that she's spent eight months on. "People are dying, Mr. Westen. I don't have time for these games." Michael agrees with her, and assures her they're on the same side. She dares him to prove it, and that seems to give him an idea. "You're right, we should talk later," he says abruptly, and gets up to leave, already on his phone to Sam before he even gets back to his car. "I need you to find out a little more about another case Paxson's working on," he instructs. After the dessert Michael bought him last night, seems like the least he could do.