Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Pepper Anderson's managed to get her hands on an early edition of the following morning's All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. The main headline loudly proclaims, "Ask Phoebe A Hero." Shut up, you stupid newspaper. Shut up a lot. Pepper makes a few tedious comments along the lines of, "Isn't it odd that the badly wigged freak in the leather babydoll with the arrows and the bow disappeared without a trace?" This type of puzzled, suspicious chatter was much less irksome coming from Inspector Andy. Six years ago. When he was naked. The Doormat simply assures his partner they'll catch the freak eventually, and wearily wishes her good night. Pepper Anderson gazes musingly into the middle distance. Yawn.
Not!warts. Raige meanders into the Not-So-Great hall with Drake's class schedule and student roster. She also reveals she's assigned the delightful Ann Cusack as his teaching assistant. This is...not very interesting at all, so we'll skip ahead to the part where Phoebe bounces into the room with her congratulations and, presumably, an offer to fuck him on the desk once they've rid themselves of pesky Raige. Hell, maybe they'll just go at it right in front the sister -- it is Valentine's Day, after all, and Phoebe's a game sort of gal. Ain't love grand? Fortunately for her sake, Raige must flee to babysit the kids for Piper and the Dolt, thereby allowing Phoebe and Drake some measure of privacy. Once alone with the latest object of her sordid affections, Phoebe passes him tomorrow's paper, wrapping up the stupid phone company storyline with word that Normand has agreed to refund all of those unethical-yet-not-illegal fees he'd collected over the years. "Guess he just needed to be reminded of his mortality," Phoebe smirks. No one cares, Phoebe. NO ONE CARES. Drake, for his part, has a somewhat more interesting tale to tell. That deal he made with the blessedly late and decidedly unlamented Roché? It "only lasts a year." "At the end of it," he explains, "I gotta die." Phoebe giggles like a fool until she realizes he's serious. "Can we fix it?" she wonders, crushed. "You can't," he insists before assuring her that "it's all good." He then races off to his night class -- WHAT? -- leaving Phoebe to gnash her teeth in unwillingly chaste despair over not getting any demonic tail on Valentine's Day, or something, as we finally fade to black.