The Sole shoots a quick glance over at the elevator bank and announces, "The meeting's adjourned." The various demonic middle managers plus Belinda smoke and squiggle and ray and waft and blink and evaporate immediately. The Sole waves a hand across the conference table, which vanishes as well. As the elevator doors slide open to reveal the Feebs, The Sole flings out his other hand to conjure up a small table laden with a candlelit dinner for two. "Hi, honey," he chirps, crossing halfway across the room to her. "You're home early." The Feebs beams. Credits.

Back from the break, some alterna-testicle is telling me he believes that everyone can fly-yi-i-ie while the camera pans across San Francisco before landing on The Kim Novak Memorial Condominium Tower. Up in the penthouse, The Sole presents Phoebe with a "vegetarian egg-white omelet" she finds impossible to eat. Her tummy's a little upset, don't you know, and she's nursing a headache to boot. Personally, I wouldn't be able to choke down a vegetarian egg-white omelet even if it were my first meal in days. The Sole raises a sly eyebrow at Phoebe's excuse, clearly recognizing her complaints as morning sickness. He keeps this to himself, however, choosing instead to suggest she call in sick if she's not feeling so hot. Phoebe pshaws, "What would San Francisco do without my advice column?" Thrive, Phoebe. Thrive. Phoebe asks if he'd mind hosting a dinner party for her sisters later that week, as she'd like to rub their noses in her newfound affluence. He hesitates, then agrees after receiving her assurance the in-laws won't be orbing into the apartment anytime soon.

The Sole moves in to peck her on the cheek, but pulls up short when he catches sight of the gouge in her shoulder from the previous evening's Harpy attack. She insists the wound is minor, but he promptly overreacts, nearly screaming into her face about taking better care of herself. His tone softens when he notes her injured expression, and he apologizes, insisting he has only her best interests at heart. They move in for a clinch that's interrupted by the entrance of Belinda. She lies that his nine o'clock is waiting for him in the hall. Phoebe makes with the barely concealed jealousy as her husband makes with the lame "they're repainting the office" excuses. Phoebe too-brightly smiles, "Oh! Okay! Fine!" and gathers her belongings to leave. Belinda's eyes audibly roll around in her head. "Make yourself at home," Phoebe snarks as she glides past Belinda to the elevator. "Thanks," offers the trampy P.A. "I will." The moment Phoebe's gone, The Sole orders Belinda to fetch Betty, Queen of the Harpies. He'd like to have a word with her regarding "the consequences of attacking [his] wife." Belinda grinds her teeth and squiggles out.