e.e. cummings must be writing for this show, because first the show name and now the line "first thing you do…" (I guess that's the episode name, trying to lend a bit o'class to the show by invoking the Bard) are all in lower case. 'Cuz it's edgier. Yeah, as edgy as one of those odd knives you're supposed to use when eating fish in a fancy restaurant. What're they called? Fish slices? Tall glass-and-steel office building, busy worker bees inside. Riley, wearing a sleeveless fuchsia shell, collates some copies as a superior darts over and asks her to perform some cite checks, because "Trevor said [she] was the best." Riley rolls her eyes and complains, "I reviewed a report for Trevor one time then he went and told everybody about it and now everyone thinks I'm easy. Breach of contract, medical malpractice, fraud. They're just using me, passing me around. I am their first-year slut. For Hoberman?" Don't know who Hoberman is or what he had to do with that mini-tantrum of hers, but ANYway. "We prefer associate slut," the superior says. "I have one other little thing, a case." "I have four of my own," Riley snips back. My legal counsel, Mr. Totalot, says that if any first-year associate talked back like that to a senior associate, she'd be out on her over-educated fanny faster than you can say "rebuttal." You take what you're given and you keep your mouth shut. I guess this guy is just really nice, because he continues in wheedling tones and tells her he remembers when senior associates used to take advantage of him. "So cut me some slack?" Riley says in her surprisingly realistic cubicle. The senior associate tells her no, because the case is a favor for a client they really care about. Riley asks why he's giving it to her. "Because it's for his housekeeper's granddaughter," he tells her. Riley nods, "Who 'we' don't care about," she says, air-quoting around the "we." "Who put her baby up for adoption," Senior Assoc corrects her, handing over the file. Riley flips it open. "And now she wants to withdraw consent, only it's too late," Senior Asso says. "This is a real case," Riley says. "This is a great case. What's wrong with this case?" she asks the Senior Asso's retreating back.
Buzzer sounds at a prison, and Riley is being escorted by a prison guard, who tells her, "All visitors should be aware that the California Department of Corrections, in the event of a hostage situation, does not negotiate your life to effect an escape by inmates." Well, that's heartening. The guard shows Riley into a visiting room and says, "There are no exceptions. You can see your client now." Riley puts her stuff down and waits.
Andy Moffat asks Shaggy, "You think it should be higher on the wall?" who answers, "I think it should be lower in a drawer," and makes a face. Shaggy is sitting on a desk in an office -- so why does Riley have a cubicle? -- as Andy Moffat decorates. "It looks like --" Shaggy says. "It's not," Andy Moffat tells him. "Well, it's pretty damn close, man," Shaggy says, looking at the unhung photographic art (which is probably not unhung itself). "It looks laike whatevah you want it to look laike," Andy Moffat tells him, suddenly transporting himself to the Deep South. "It looks like what I don't want it to look like," Shaggy says, transporting us back to the West Coast. Andy Moffat puts a nail in his office wall. "Do you really think this is appropriate for your office?" Shaggy asks. "Well, it was appropriate for the Guggenheim, Edgar," Andy Moffat says mincingly. Andy Moffat tells him he's not embarrassed about who he is, "and this," he continues, "is not paint on velvet." Shaggy looks offended: "Are you referring to my Luchador, which is both fully dressed and black-light ready?" he asks. Some guy (called "Man" in the closed captions) tells them O'Donnell is back in his office. "So soon?" Andy Moffat asks, and flamboyantly flicks out his arm to check his watch. God, we get it. You're gay. Please don't offend your three viewers by portraying a far-fetched composite of every trotted-out stereotype there is. "How is he?" Shaggy asks. "How the hell would you feel if that happened to your ex-wife?" Man asks. Loving the mysterious air of non-tension they are attempting to create by purposefully ambiguous dialogue. "Though I guess you wouldn't know." Man says uncomfortably, looking at the is-he-is-he-not photograph. "Hey!" Shaggy says, annoyed. "For your information that's my photograph. It hung at the Guggenheim and it's exactly what you think it is!" Though why he feels the need to defend Andy Moffat -- who is totally fine with his homosexuality -- I cannot figure. "Great, you're gay too," Man says, totally bored, "O'Donnell wants you both in his office after lunch," and leaves. For this first time, we see that Shaggy is wearing a totally hideous brown and white paisley shirt with brown pants and for some unknown Dressing-In-The-Dark-While-Wearing-My-Sunglasses-At-Night reason has seen fit to put on a navy blazer as well. It's like he went jacketless to a chi-chi restaurant and they gave him a blazer on loan. Shaggy looks a little uncomfortable. "Sorry about that, Edgar," Andy Moffat says in measured tones. "Didn't mean for him to think you're on my team." "I hope he thinks we're a couple!" Shaggy says brazenly. "I hope not," Andy Moffat says. "You're not my type." "I can change!" Shaggy says, following Andy Moffat out of the office. Oh, a potential homophobe covering up said phobiness by claiming allegiance to the other side. How original.
Andy Moffat and Shaggy get off the elevator and greet a fellow embryo lawyer: "Oh, Joe, buddy, what's up? We hear O'Donnell wants to see us." Joe tells them O'Donnell has a case for them, and they're thrilled. Joe tells them that the senior partners are pissed at O'Donnell for taking the case: "They think it's going to be a waste of time, money and manpower," Joe tells them, "so he's putting you guys on it." Ba-bum-bum. PlasticMan (they still haven't told us his real name, so he is everafter PlasticMan, Keeper of the Plastic Face) shows up, wearing an eminently casual chili-red button-down shirt. "O'Donnell wants to see me," he tells them smugly. "Us," Shaggy corrects him. Joe tells the trio he can't believe O'Donnell's still doing this. "I mean the way that pathetic, over-fed piece of lox takes advantage of you first-years," Joe waxes vitriolic, "exploiting your lowly position for his own selfish agenda --" "Piece of lox"? I like that. I'm going use that. Andy Moffat asks Joe how he can talk about their boss like that. "Well, he pays me to," Joe explains. "He pays me to berate him. He pays me to remind him what an immoral excuse for men's genitalia he really is." "Okay," Andy Moffat says, waggling a finger, "that is sick!" What's so sick about it? Letting loose all your ire on your boss sounds pretty healthy to me. In fact -- Sars? Uh, nothing. Anyway, Joe shoots back that he'd do it for free.