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."
SOUTH BAY SOCIAL SERVICES. Rose wiggles her ass around in the copier room while futzing with the paper tray. The Smug Bastard enters from behind (not like that. Ew) to leer, "Nothing like a copy room with a view." Aw. He's so two-dimensional and irritating. I hope he gets to stay. Not. Billy the Egregiously Acned enters. "Hey, Clearasil. What's popping?" the Bastard jerks before leaving with a fresh cup of coffee. Like this guy's behavior in a social services setting -- or any office setting, for that matter -- would not have become one great big actionable offense and they wouldn't have fired his ass by now. Then again, Rose does absolutely nothing but bitch at her boss, blow application deadlines for clients, and bail in the middle of the day to run personal errands, and she still has her job. Why do I get the sneaking suspicion the writers favor Gee Duh's proposed Federal "faith-based" aid initiative? And do not even bother with the snippy e-mail, Ari. This is still a free country. I'm just glad your dimwit of a boss has all of Daddy's friends from the 1980s around to help him muddle through the current crisis. Anyway, Billy the Acned looks a little upset. Rose commiserates, "He's a jerk to everybody." "I know," Billy adenoids. "That's why his mail gets lost. Frequently." The two snorf over that before Rose asks if the Xerox is on the fritz. "I keep trying to copy, but it keeps coming out blank." We discover why almost immediately. She's trying to photocopy the BoS, and the BoS does not take kindly to such actions. Billy doofily offers to copy the Book for her in a way that screams "unrequited crush." Rose thanks him, telling him he's "sweet." He snorts forlornly through his nose and slumps over to the coffee machine. Rose, taking pity upon the Egregiously Acned, flips through the Book for the following "Vanishing Spell":