Luckily for Kerry, the mugger in the blue jacket comes along after she's already left, so he didn't ruin her last-word huffy exit. Nonetheless, the mugger that runs up behind her does indeed snatch her purse. Alas, he's the stupidest mugger in the world, because his escape route involved running through traffic, and as anyone who's played Frogger knows, it's not always easy to get to the lily pads. A car smacks into him and he crumples. "Call 911!" Weaver shouts, hobbling to his side. "Don't move!" The kid stirs to life, leaps up, and continues running. "Come back here!" Weaver screams, as if the mugger is going to stop in his tracks and say, "Damn, good point. I should go back there." Weaver screams, "You could be seriously injured!" The mugger keeps on trucking, and no one so much as tries to trip him. In a fit of pique, Kerry curses, "You assho..." The credits cut off the end of her word so that the youth of today won't be dirtied by the foul mouth of a robbery victim who, incidentally, said the same word last week without censorship. We fade to black wondering why "Ass Ho" is considered more acceptable by NBC, and we conclude that the word "hole" is delightfully dirty.
Abby, wrapped in a blanket, shuffles sloppily into the kitchen and stares at Carter as if she doesn't recognize him. Maybe she drank her way back into Season Six. Carter sees her out of the corner of his eye and jumps, startled. "You scared me," he breathes. "You okay?" Abby continues to stare at him, half-wincing. I think she hates his hair. His longish 'do makes him look like evil Beth -- or Little Boy Peep, as I call her -- on Passions. If he starts spending his life lurking in doorways and bugging out his eyes and swaying indiscriminately and trying to kill his old mother with the heart problem who knows the real truth about him...well, then it probably means I'm hallucinating. "When did you get here?" Abby rasps at him. I'm sure that, in her world, that means, "Thanks for coming home, it's so nice to see you! How was your trip?" But most of us don't speak Selfish Old Bag, so we're left with the impression that she is, in fact, a slaghole. "Couple hours ago," Carter replies. "You were still sleeping. On this, he glibly picks up the tequila bottle and reaches for the cap. He makes his point without saying anything, probably well aware that, given the success of his previous conversations with Abby about drinking, he should pick his battles right now and this isn't one of them. Abby twitches a little, but she's too tired and hung-over to care. "Any news?" he asks, slowly screwing the cap onto the top of the open bottle, still making sure she knows that he knows, and he knows that she knows that he knows, and that he's a good little boy who won't tell tales to teacher as long as she'll let him cop a feel behind the bleachers. Abby shakes her head. Carter offers her breakfast. She ignores him and asks if the phone rang. He shakes his head silently. "I thought I heard the phone ring," she mutters. That was your head ringing, Abby. She continues to ignore Carter's offers of coffee and aspirin, and instead barks that he must call her if anyone tries to contact her with information. "Where are you going?" he asks, confused. "I took a shift," she calls from the bedroom. Carter slams his cup onto the table in disbelief. FootCam shows us his feet heading toward her, as she's framed in the distance in the bedroom. Then we cut back to a closer shot of them meeting in the hallway area. Weird. "I've got to keep busy," she whispers. She begins to babble, but he cuts her off with a hug. "They're going to find him," he insists. "Thank you for coming back," Abby replies quietly. Finally.