Prue opens the door to find a rolled-up copy of the Herald on the front porch and wonders "when they started delivering newspapers in the afternoon." Maybe when "they" started publishing a paper called the Herald in San Francisco. Phoebe notes all the photos save one have disappeared. The one that remains is of "Claudia Gibson," the innocent from the Metro section who Ron sent the jock after that morning. Ms. Gibson is scheduled to deliver a speech on some mayoral initiative at two o'clock, which, Phoebe notes, is "ten minutes ago." The Ps quickly realize that Claudia has a bulls-eye painted on her back with Tom's name written all over it, and head off to find her. Cut to Claudia leaving her two o'clock with a couple of colleagues. She heads off on her own down the street to her car as Tom darts into view behind her. Close-up of the jock, and I'm compelled to note that he's all kinds of cute. I guess only ugly demons with British accents and unfortunate facial hair get vanquished on this show.
The Halliwell SUV tears up behind the pair, and the Ps jump out just as Tom flings a Flaming Ball Of Death at Claudia's back. Piper freezes Tom, Claudia, and the FBOD. The Ps trot over to the frozen group, with Piper more than willing to dust Tom's ass right there. Prue tells the other two that there will be no smackdowns laid upon Tom on her watch. Phoebe reminds Prue that Tom came thisclose to killing the mayor's flack. Prue: Yeah, well, he didn't. She TKs the FBOD into a parked car, where it vanquishes a tire. Prue, sweetheart, really. You couldn't have shunted it into a tree or something? Saving innocents is important and all, but you just vandalized private property, hon. Eh, whatever. The car probably belongs to some tedious dot-com yuppie anyway. Where was I? Oh, yeah -- Prue tells the other two they need to get Tom back to the manor, pronto. Phoebe and Piper look aghast at this suggestion, and Phoebe voices her dissent. Prue's not having it. She heads over to the jock as we cut to commercial. Finally.
"Oh. GURRRL." Snicker.
Attic. Prue leafs through the BoS as the jock struggles against the restraints the sisters have placed him in. Piper freezes him. If you ask me, the jock is the guy Piper should be freezing on a regular basis in the old boudoir, if you know what I mean. That mental image is a little more pleasant than the other one. Piper asks Prue if she's found anything pertinent. Prue answers in the negative, leading Piper to suggest that now might be the time for Phoebe's next confession. The phone rings, and Phoebe suggests that Piper escort her pushy ass downstairs to answer it. Piper tells Phoebe that God created answering machines for situations like this one. Prue tells them both to can it, telling them that she found an entry on the Perlman Academy of Demonic Arts and Crafts in the BoS. The gist of the entry reveals that, if the jock has been completely converted, he'll have six chevrons branded on his arm. Piper checks. There are only five. Phoebe again suggests that they vanquish the jock while they have the chance. Prue launches into another tiresome speech about Cole and Phoebe's attitude towards him. Tom thankfully cuts it short by unfreezing. Prue approaches him, asking him if he remembers her from college. He shoots an FBOD past her head in response. Snerk. What did you do to the poor guy back then, Prue? Piper, reading my mind: "Does that mean he remembers you, or he doesn't?" Snicker. The phone jangles again in the kitchen. Prue sends Piper and Phoebe downstairs to take care of it so she can have a little quality time with her ex.