Phoebe asks for a moment alone with the Dolt. Cole relents and heads off to the kitchen for a beer or something. Phoebe stresses that Piper's anger isn't the only issue; she's also been "completely dismissive of Paige." Who? Oh -- Rose. I still hate the character's name. As the two cross to sink into a sofa, they blather about Phoebe's altered role in the new family dynamic developing around her. Long used to being the family "screw-up," she's finding it difficult to adapt to the role of "mediator." She understands for the first time how difficult Piper had it when Phoebe and Prue were constantly at each other's throats, while I wonder how the writer managed to sneak that reference to real-life bickering and catfights past Alyssa's addled little mind and into the script. The Dolt promises again to have a word with Piper, and the two hug. Phoebe suggests the Dolt get to it right away, as Piper's up in her boudoir scrying at that very moment. The Dolt orbs out in mid-hug, causing Phoebe to plow Fun Bags first into the cushions. "I didn't mean you couldn't use the stairs," she bellows. Ha. Hee. Not.

Up in the attic, Rose has scribbled out copies of about eight different spells when she runs out of Post-Its. She grimaces, then stumbles upon a cunning plan. She lifts the Book from its pedestal and totes it over to the windows. "Okay, Book, protect yourself," she orders before dropping it to the lawn below. Oh, that's smart. Rose hears Phoebe heading up the stairs and leaps out onto the landing before Phoebe can enter the room. "Where's the fire?" asks Phoebe. "Well, you know, lunch break's over," Rose lames. For her employment security's sake, I certainly hope she got the O'Brien application on her boss's desk before she left. Something tells me the boss is going to forget about that, though. Phoebe's dismayed the two didn't get a chance to bond, like, how much bonding can be accomplished in ten minutes anyway, but invites Rose back that evening. Rose agrees to do just that, and scurries out of the Manor.

Meanwhile, over in the bridal boudoir, the Dolt attempts to reason with the wife. The wife's having none of it. "Whitelighters are supposed to guide, not judge," she snorts. "Just because I'm doing things a little bit differently doesn't mean that there's a problem." She flings the scrying crystal to the map in irritation. The Dolt insists he's merely trying to talk through the pros and cons of her recent behavior. She's had it. "It hurts. To talk. [Dolt]," she fumes, on the verge of tears. "It hurts. To breathe. So unless you have some idea how to bring Prue back, I don't want to talk right now." The Dolt psychobabbles about Piper still blaming him for Prue's death, but when Piper places the blame not on him but rather on Eeevil, he psychobabbles some more about her need to drop this strong and silent act of hers and confront her emotions, and he's right, but he's such an overbearing twit about the whole thing that I still want to smack him in the teeth. Piper ignores him and returns to her scrying. The crystal slams down on a city intersection, and she runs out past him with, "I have work to do."