So Dexter waits, and waits, and paces, and waits, and writes a testimonial for Phenobarbital or whatever the hell it is that's keeping Real Kyle knocked out for so long, and waits. Finally, he sees Arthur sauntering up to the front door. Dex lies in wait. Arthur opens the door, stalls, waits a moment, then leaves. DVO does its one entertaining thing of the week and spits "What the FUCK?!" in frustration. Dex goes to chase, but since the apartment opens up to a courtyard, there's too many people around. Thwarted. Dex sees Real Kyle's Christmas cards on the hallway table, which I guess we're assuming Trinity saw and realized this isn't the Kyle he knows? It's a stretch, but...fine.
Miami Metro. Angel presents the postcards to Christine, explains their significance, points out Daddy's signature. Christine's rattled, deep down, but on the surface, she simply says Miami PD's trying to set her up. In turn, Angel starts pressing: she used Quinn to keep Daddy safe, she kept tabs on Lundy, and she shot him. Christine finally leans in and asks for her lawyer. Out watching the monitor, Quinn finally gives up the ghost: "She lied," he says, before proceeding to make it All About Quinn and how he was used and how he's an asshole because of it. Deb tries to make him feel better by reminding him she used to be engaged to the Ice Truck Killer. Yeah, that'll knock you down a few pegs. "So," she says with a rueful smile, "We can play 'Who's a Bigger Asshole?' but I guarantee I'll win." You guys, I love Deb. Angel appears and says he's keeping Christine another night. "Good!" overcompensates Quinn. "Let her fuckin' rot!"