Carter walks Abby up the stairs to her apartment. Abby is surprised that the cops never picked up Carter for any silly misdemeanors when he was a kid. She giggles that she kinda-sorta stole a Gremlin in her youth, engaging in a brief high-speed chase, but all for a noble cause: "We had to get Wham! tickets," she grins. I can totally relate. George Michael was one of my very first celebrity crushes. We were in looove, except for the whole he-was-gay- and-I-was-six thing. Abby then invites Carter in for a coffee "or something," but Carter completely fails to let his mind exaggerate the "or something" part and stupidly says he can't, because he's got an early wake-up call. "Thanks for helping me," she says, sheepishly. Carter tells her to find another wheelman next time. "That's too bad," she twinkles. "I had my eye on this liquor store around the corner." Leaning heavily against her door, she finally bangs it open and laughs self-consciously, then leans contemplatively against the frame. She stares. Carter stares. She bites her lip, then lamely offers, "Sorry I almost got you arrested." Carter still looks inquisitively at her, and I think we're witnessing The Look, the one that's both a question and an answer as long as one of them acts upon it. Naturally, the upstairs neighbors start a screaming match that spoils the mood, and the lady who lives next door bursts out of her apartment to investigate. Carter backs away, taking his leave of Abby but doing so in very high spirits. Someone's going to be watching a porno tonight.

Elizabeth drifts toward Mark. "You look beat," he says, romantically. She lies that her surgery passed without incident and listlessly says, "I noticed Rachel's still here." Mark confesses that there's been a slight change of plan. "How do you feel about Rachel staying with us for a little while?" he begins. Elizabeth clarifies, "Like for the rest of the summer?" Hedging, Mark suggests it could stretch longer than that, but chips right in with the tempting nugget that Rachel could be a live-in babysitter for Ella -- this, despite Rachel having just finished a screaming match with her mother about being irresponsible. Stonily, Elizabeth throws up her hands. "She's your daughter, Mark," she says, unmistakable about the pronoun and stressing it not in a welcoming way, but in a "you deal with her, not me" kind of way. "Of course she's welcome to stay with us," Elizabeth adds. "The fact that she's still here suggests that you've already told her she could." Mark is no match for the Iron Hell-Bitch, being a sad sack of polyester and beard hair. He utters something pathetic to the effect that Elizabeth was busy in surgery, but he's interrupted by Rachel's inquiry about whether they have a satellite dish. Elizabeth bites the inside of her cheeks to keep from spitting.