Dear Writers: Thank you so much for assuming a modicum of intelligence on the part of your audience and not reenacting the abbreviated plot before each and every FREAKING EPISODE. Sincerely, Your Viewers.
Original Cindy is in the kitchen having a facial. A Japanese facial. Okay, no, no, she's a lesbian; it's just a regular facial. Max walks in and freaks out. I guess she's never seen anyone green in the face. Which means she's never been to my house when I'm watching this show. OC explains the ins and outs of female beauty rites and rituals. And not that I miss her, but where the hell did Kendra go? Were Max and OC so grossed out by her affinity for Walter the Skeevy Cop that they wouldn't talk to her anymore? And wouldn't Max have been introduced to just a few of these feminine routines while living with the uber-femme Kendra? Kendra never got manicures? Or facials? Or a shampoo? 'Cause Max obviously learned nothing about stuff as mundane and universal as hair-washing. Anyway, OC starts telling Max that her complexion is dull, blotchy, and drab. Which sounds like a critique of her acting, if you ask me. She starts to whip up a milk, egg, and Vitamin A facial for Max, but Max picks up the milk carton, drops her jaw, and runs out the door. Proving once again that the girl has no manners.
A young father is getting his son ready for school. He puts on the little boy's shoes and packs his lunchbox, and then the phone rings. It's Max. Seems that the missing girl on the back of the milk carton is Tinga, Max's Manticore campmate. Max tells Tinga's husband that he has to call off the search for his wife because she's not missing, she's in hiding, and his milk-carton campaign is leading "bad men" right to him. It is quickly apparent that Tinga's husband has no idea about her past. In fact, he has no idea that her name is Tinga; he knows her as Penny. Max tries to boss him around, telling him to take his kid and leave town. He gets annoyed at the anonymous harangue and hangs up on Max. As he heads back to get his son ready for school, he notices that his son has put together a jigsaw puzzle. Which in the rapid-fire jumping-to-conclusions vernacular of television dramas means that the child is a genius. A conclusion proven when the child, Casey, is taken out of his class to have some one-on-one talented-and-gifted tutoring. And the tutor? It's Lydecker, of course, and he's wearing his glasses so he looks smart, and he's carrying lollipops so he looks like a pervert.