Whew. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. As the Trade Center towers glow in the reflected light of Zankou's flaming entrance, Dolta jerks his head around just in time to catch the tail end of Zankou's materialization over in the apartment's kitchenette. Goddamn, he's hot. Dolta disagrees with me, apparently, for he immediately greets Zankou with a blast of sporking electricity from his left hand. Zankou slams heavily against a door at the far end of the apartment for a moment, but quickly recovers to stalk up to Dolta while crooning, "You've been weakened, Avatar, by the death of one of your own." Zankou thrusts out a hand, and Dolta instantly flies backwards through the air to smash into the apartment's front wall. Once he slides to the floor, he stares up at the demon with rapidly increasing panic spreading across his face. "We both have the same problem, you and I," Zankou continues, smoothly sidling up to Dolta, who's inched himself up the wall to his feet. "Neither of us trust this new world," Zankou elaborates, latching onto the lapels of Dolta's coat. Dolta's expression of panic has by now passed into one of goggle-eyed terror. Hee. Pussy. Zankou pushes his face into Dolta's own before adding, "We're both going to have to do something about it." And with that, Zankou blazes out of the apartment with Dolta in tow, headed for points unknown. I swear to God, this episode got fifteen times better the second Oded Fehr appeared on screen.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Elise Rothman, Girl Editor greets Phoebe, wondering why the latter is in the office on her day off. Phoebe admits she just dropped by to see how things are going. "They aren't!" Elise grins. "And that's a good thing," she adds. "Have you seen today's paper?" she continues, flapping a copy of the latest edition around in the air. "Thinnest. One. Ever! There's no crime to speak of, no corruption, no scandal. Thank God the obits are up, otherwise we'd just have a one-sheet!" And that, my friends, is most definitely a DUN! The two women banter about how wonderful the world seems and whatnot before discussing the topic of Phoebe's next column. Phoebe says she'll have to work on it from home, and asks Elise to tell "Oliver" she'll email the copy to him by six that evening. At the mention of Oliver's name, Elise's eyes widen a bit. "Oliver," she repeats in a lightly mournful tone. "That's the only bad thing that happened today." "Well," she quickly amends, "not bad for him of course, just for us." Seems Elise got a call from his family about an hour ago, and he's "gone." "My God," Phoebe breathes sympathetically. "He was such a troubled young man," Elise speechifies. "I really hoped he could turn things around." Phoebe somewhat glumly agrees with the sentiment. "Well," Elise burbles, brightening the mood while gifting the contemplative Feebs with an amiable pat on the arm, "at least we can take heart that he's in a much better place now!" AAAAAAUAUUAAAAGH! I was serious about the shrieking, people. "Yeah," Phoebe agrees absently as Elise bustles out of the frame. "I guess so," she finishes, some part of her clearly realizing that something's very, very wrong.