"I am the son, I am the heir." Yes, the song is back, but Shannen is nowhere to be found. They did insert a very pretty shot of the Golden Gate Bridge swathed in fog, though, so, you know, there's that. Not.
Some ovary whines, "Who am I?" under the opening San Francisco travelogue, so you know we're bound to end up at SOUTH BAY SOCIAL SERVICES sooner or later, sooner being the case this evening. In her cubicle, Rose, rather than actually working, reads in a voice-over from a paperback entitled Witches & Witchcraft. "Throughout history, witches have been misunderstood, persecuted, and destroyed. The public hanging, drowning, and burning of women suspected of witchcraft is a far more recent chapter of our history than most people realize." And thank you for that, Stoopy McMoron. You never read The Crucible or something? She's interrupted by her boss, who wants to know, "What's the hold-up on the O'Brien application?" Rose blathers an excuse that really isn't, and he demands that she have it on his desk "by noon." They really need to knock it off with the whole noting specific hours of the day and deadlines thing in these scripts, because it always ends in tears. My tears of frustration at the resulting inaccuracies in the time frame, mind you, but tears nonetheless. Rose swivels in her seat to hiss at a co-worker. "Lila! What's the O'Brien application?" Lila, a grunge chick ten years after the fact, clues Rose in on "Adam O'Brien -- the foster kid [they're] trying to get into boarding school." The deadline for the application is close of business that very day. Rose curses her stupidity. No comment. Yet.