We open at the offices of Jackman, Carter, and Kline, and yes, I had to dig through prior recaps to find the firm's name. Deep within a sunlit conference room, a prim and bored stenographer taps out a transcription of a deposition already in progress. Piloting the deposition is none other than Mr. Eye Candy himself, Cole Turner. He's squaring off against a pair of gentlemen whose firm has a propensity for towing toxic sludge out into the middle of the Pacific Ocean. There's a joke involving Princess Cruise Lines and Lauren Tewes lurking in that sentence, but as this scene's simply a set-up for the Demon Of The Week, let's keep it moving, shall we? Cole, quite frankly, appears to have been ridden hard and put away wet the previous evening, and the angle of his close-ups only serves to emphasize this. The camera's tilting up towards Cole's face from low against the surface of the table, emphasizing the baggy eyes, the enormous damp brow, and the Peter Krause bed head, so we know something demonic's afoot. After all, it's never so simple as a raging hangover with this guy, right? As Cole natters about shipping dates and manifests, the sweat from that enormous forehead of his threatens to drip out of the television and onto my carpet. One of the gentleman on the opposite side of the table -- let's call him "Gopher" -- leans towards the other to whisper, "I don't know what this demon's trying to prove." Cole winces, shakes his head as if to clear it, and asks, "Did you say something?" Gopher shrugs his shoulders with upturned palms and denies opening his mouth. Cole returns to his brief as the other gentleman -- "Isaac" -- snides in a slightly louder voice, "Trying to deny what he is, like we don't know!" I realize I'm reading far too much into this, but they just had the African-American gentleman chide Cole for passing. I don't know if I should snicker or weep. "You give us all a bad name," Isaac continues as his eyes glow red. Cole leaps to his feet and snarls, "What the hell is going on here?" You took some of the brown acid, honey. Just try to maintain while I fetch you some orange juice, okay? Oh, wait. Orange juice is for Ecstasy, right? Whatever. Like I know from recreational drug use. So, Isaac and Gopher, neither of whom is demonic in the Charmed sense of the word, are naturally baffled by Cole's outburst. Cole excuses himself and turns towards the door. The prim stenographer purses her lips and mutters, "Crackhead," as Cole staggers from the room.