Meanwhile, back in the suburbs, Sam has the pilot tied to a lawn chair in Madeline's garage. There's also an empty kitchen chair next to him for some reason. Sam's trying to get the pilot to roll over on Chechik, who he says is a bad guy. "War crimes, murder for hire..." "Why do you think I'm keeping my mouth shut?" the pilot duhs. Sam realizes that's an excellent point, and slaps a strip of duct tape over the pilot's mouth before leaving him alone to stew.

Returning to the kitchen, where Madeline is serving up big glasses of iced tea, Sam says that the pilot is more afraid of Chechik than them. Apparently, just because he was drunk and ill-groomed, they thought that meant he was also stupid. Fi suggests choking the information out of him, and Sam, bless him, sticks to his position that torture will just cause him to "start making crap up." In moments, they're so busy arguing with each other that they don't notice that Madeline has quietly left the room. Is she going to the dark side? Let's hope Sam didn't have time to come through with those curtain rods.

Just as quietly, she enters the garage, acting all friendly to the pilot and sitting down in that empty chair next to him. She offers him a cigarette, and when his only response is to stare at her blankly over his duct-tape gag, she lights up herself and complains about how she needed some peace and quiet. "They get loud when they're angry. Luckily, this place is well-insulated. Can't hear a peep from outside. Probably why they like it so much." The pilot is looking around, suddenly worried. Madeline apologizes for giving him the wrong impression. "I have never once seen them ever, ever make anyone suffer. If they don't think you'll break, they end it quick." She repeats her offer of a cigarette. "It's not like you have to worry about getting cancer any more." She pulls just one end of the strip of duct tape loose, just enough to stick the smoke into the corner of his mouth and light it. Then she sits back, like they're just a couple of strangers enjoying a smoke together, like at a bus stop or on a park bench. Except, of course, for the fact that the pilot's smoke is coming out of his ears.