P3. Phoebe and Raige convince Bev to go with a 1940s-themed evening, despite Bev's rationale that a 1950s theme would be "a little bit more flashy." Phoebe's selling points are zoot suits, saddle shoes, and patriotism, in that order. You do know that at the time, zoot suits were perceived as the exact opposite of wartime patriotism, don't you? Good. Raige's selling point is that the '50s have been done to death. Bev's still waffling, so Phoebe slyly settles the deal with flattery, telling Bev she has "this kinda Veronica Lake thing going on." I seem to recall Veronica Lake dying of cirrhosis after spending her declining years as an alcoholic waitress in a diner, so, you know, not such a good thing to "kinda" have going on if you know what I mean, Feebs. You might as well tell the poor woman, "You are so Frances Farmer, I just want to run out and get a lobotomy right now!" Bev has the popular-culture memory of a gnat, however, and the Veronica Lake comparison sells her on the whole idea. Phoebe hands Bev some information on an amenable costume shop as the three women rise from their seats. Bev thanks them both and darts up the stairs just as Cole enters the club.

The no-longer-demonic boy toy greets Phoebe and Raige. Phoebe pleasantly razzes him over disappearing from the Manor that morning without telling her. She moves in for a clinch and, for lack of a better way to put this, feels something hard in his pants. Cole steps back and whips a nickel-plated automatic from his waistband. I blush. He's terribly pleased with himself, but the gals are simply terrified. A tiresome PSA follows about the dangers of keeping guns in the house and blah but Cole needs a way to protect himself and his woman and blee and Phoebe will not live in a house with a gun and bleck and shut it already. All of you. The Dolt orbs in to interrupt the conversation. Never did I think I'd be happy to see the Dolt. He comes bearing ill tidings of a rash of disappearing muses. The Powers That Be, needless to say, are most disturbed by this turn of events in the supernatural realm. Only a "very powerful [Eeevil]" could do such a thing. Cole lifts an eyebrow and intones, "Factions." Just then, Cocky's pot-smoking companion blinks in off to the side to spy on the gathering. Phoebe and Raige decide to call the decorator for the party from the Jeep on their way back to the Manor. They pause long enough for Phoebe to wrest the automatic from Cole's hand. Over his shout of protest, Phoebe passes the weapon to the Dolt, asking him to orb it over to Darryl. The Dolt shoots Cole a filthy look, like, shut up, Dolt. Last time I checked, it was still legal to own a firearm. Not that I approve of firearms in the home, you must understand, but still. Cole hasn't shot anyone yet, so cram it. Phoebe, Raige, and Cole head up the stairs as the Dolt orbs out. Over in his alcove, the stoner morphs up into Dolt form and blinks out.