It's late at night and Horatio is rubbing his temples. Lucky temples. I'm never going to stop with that, you know, so you might as well get used to it. Khanita enters with some research that might help him. She seems to be holding a transparency: "They ruled that a prisoner could mail his sperm to his wife for artificial insemination. It implies a right to procreate by non-traditional means," Khanita explains. Does it? It sounds messy to me. She thinks it would give him an appeal issue if he needed it. Horatio's all ready to give up. Khanita raises her genetically perfect eyebrows and walks out. Horatio jumps up to explain his reason for becoming a lawyer. From anyone else, I'd be bored with this sort of navel gazing, but Ioan can do anything. Just as long as I have a drool cup. Make that a bowl. "I was an 'A' student with no other particular talent -- that's why people go to law school," he says. Uh. Hm. Dad? Puzer? How do you feel about having no particular talent? Khanita went to law school because she wanted to have a voice in the way things are run. A genetically perfected voice, mind you. "Exactly, 'the way things run' -- what society looks like, whether this little boy lives or dies -- it's all decided by a bunch of people who were good at taking tests and not much else!" Horatio fumes. Khanita says she's sorry about what happened to his case but that's no reason to.... "A boy lives or dies, that's real life, Lee May, just not yours," Horatio smolders. Khanita walks out on her genetically perfect legs. Horatio feels bad, and half-heartedly tries to call her back.
Axel plays in a park as the monorail zips by. Hector approaches the Mom and Dad of Clone and introduces himself. They go to talk and, of course, he will convince him to join the case because he's the same man who admired a borrowed necklace and told Richard Gere that it's hard letting something so beautiful get away.
Office. T.J. wonders what his settlement offer is. Khanita and Darwin tell him he gets to join the band on tour and on the live album, provided he gets some minor nips and tucks. T.J. is affronted: "That's not an offer, that's an insult." Darwin tells him it's a gift, since the tour will make everyone money. T.J. argues that he's in good physical shape and he doesn't look that bad, either. Darwin, speaking from his black heart, thinks that most people would be happy to extend their life by a few years. "I got a forty-year-old son. If I'm going to look thirty forever, he better stay twenty or things are going to look pretty confusing at our family reunions," T.J. blusters. Aren't they going to look confusing anyway? I mean, if he drops forty years, won't more people aside from his son look odd by comparison? One of the leather-clad 98 Years walks in to announce that Kevyn is dead. Everyone looks a bit confused but not that upset. "The telomerase? Cancer?" Khanita asks. "A stroke -- the man was seventy-two," 98 Years says. "And he looked so good," Darwin muses. The anvil, how she hurts.