Will: "I don't have time for this!"
Edward: "Uh, time for what?"
Will: "All of this helpful information that is key to the case I'm refusing to solve!"
Edward: "Okay but like I am literally telling you what happened. When the payphone information comes through -- which apparently takes three days for some reason, even though when you found the bakery you were able to do it in the time it took Joanna to get to Brooklyn from Brooklyn -- you'll see. It'll be Frank calling the (literal) shots, or somebody else at Kirschner-Sims."
Will: "It's possible I'm back to thinking it was you. But on the off chance that you are about to be like the fifth person murdered under my watch, maybe you should go to California, like I told you not to this morning."
Edward: "Fuck me for even trying, man."
Joanna: "The fuck is going on, Mom?"
Beverly: "Life goes by very quickly. He offered a flight up, I took it. I missed you and I am losing my memory, so."
Joanna: "In a nutshell, here is the entire plot of this show."
Beverly: "You are really asking a lot of me, Joanna."
Joanna: "On a separate note, here is the entire backstory you are to memorize."
It's sad. Alzheimer's is so fucking sad and SEM is such a good actress and Joanna is so freaking great in this episode. They try so hard, both of them, against this invisible enemy, and wish against wishing that her brain won't fuck this up, and Beverly's so ashamed and fighting to do this for her daughter, and Joanna's trying desperately not to be impatient with the disease, and they love each other so much, and it's just... Gah. Great scene. Absolutely great scene, great episode. Hard to watch. I don't want to talk about it anymore.
Sofia's got a plan, never fear. It's crazy as hell, because she's crazy. But if you sat staring at this screen for ten minutes, you would not be able to get your mind there. Sofia defies all rules. Like a killer teen rebel, she looks at your "rules," your "logic," your "sanity," and she spits, she says, "What else ya got?"
Plan B? Waltz right into that jailhouse in a trenchcoat, dressed underneath it like a hooker. Not a regular hooker, but like an anachronistic Blade Runner hooker, because it's Sofia: peekaboo top, garters, lace, the whole nine, in a discomfiting color scheme of black and Hot Pink. Like hot pink, like shoes-for-a-toddler pink. It is crazy looking. So without much yadda-yadda, she scoots her bordello-lookin' self onto a nearby gross table, immediately gets Wyatt up and in there, and while he's jailhousing the pain away, she slips one hand around to the rear -- a sista knows -- and slips some drugs into his back pocket.