Chris, snotty: "Feel better?" Phoebe, still angry: "Yes!" Chris, softer: "Will you help me?" Phoebe, flustered, with loyalties torn: "No." Chris looks helpless and alone, so Phoebe melts to admit, "Oh, I don't know," while sighing and covering her face with her hands. "If I'm not conceived in the next couple of weeks," Chris patiently reiterates as he carefully approaches her desk, "I'll disappear forever." He plucks a reader letter from her inbox and wags it accusingly in front of her face. "You're willing to help complete strangers," he notes. "How about family?" Oh, bad argument, Chris. You're talking to the former Queen Of All Evil here, the woman who once announced she was fucking off to Hong Kong with Chronic in the middle of a demonic attack that threatened her own grandmother's immortal soul. Even her ridiculous advice column only serves to stoke her already over-inflamed ego. Phoebe helps Phoebe, Chris, and don't you ever forget it.
Innyway, Phoebe eyes the envelope in Chris's hand for a second before pulling it from his fingers. She's about to launch into some sort of retort to his last remark when she's flung into a black-and-white premonition: A dark-haired, modestly dressed beauty cowers in the corner of a cave filled with rickety-looking scaffolding. "No, please!" she begs in heavily accented English. A dark demonic type who's nearly as attractive as she is cackles gleefully before launching a dart of deadly orange mojo at her head. The dark-haired beauty drops to the floor in a dodge as the demon boy snickers. The beauty lifts her head to eye him with a mixture of panic and dread as Phoebe snaps out of it.
"What'd you see?" Chris asks. "A woman being attacked," she replies. "Where?" Chris wonders. Phoebe stares at him, all, "This is the last goddamned thing I need today," as The Sinister Oboe Of Wacky Arabian Stereotypes escorts us on over to, well, New Mexico, from the looks of things. No, seriously -- they've slotted some stock footage of a long-abandoned mud-walled Navajo fortress into this sequence for the establishing shot. Whatever. Phoebe and Big Gay Chris warily enter the cave from Phoebe's premonition, which Chris places "in a desert in the Middle East." "Are you sure your scrying wasn't off?" he asks as they glance around the chamber. "Maybe Jinny is an archeologist," Phoebe offers. "Yeah," Chris snots, "why would an archeologist in the Middle East send a letter to an advice columnist in San Francisco?" Note to Curtis Kheel: Having a character with a reputation for general snarkiness comment on the stupidity of a plot point does not excuse that plot point's stupidity. Got it? Good. Moving on. "She said she was with a controlling man?" Phoebe lamely offers with a wince, knowing how idiotic it all sounds. "You're missing my point," Chris duhs as he plants himself in front of a jury-rigged bit of scaffolding by the wall. "What if this is a trap?"