Once Taylor's in his office for the day, he calls in Voodoo, who slouches into the chair across from his desk. Taylor gets up and closes the door, and tells Voodoo, "You know I'm going to be making a decision soon about Friday." If he's expecting Voodoo to jump up and shout, "Pick me! Pick me!" he's sorely disappointed, because Voodoo just stares balefully at him through hooded eyes. Taylor says it's Voodoo's turn to talk now, and even gives him a few job-interview-isms that might fit nicely here. Instead, Voodoo just sort of wearily leans forward and rumbles, "I'm not here to make friends." Mission accomplished! "I don't like the food here, the music, the weather." That last one's gotta sting, coming from somebody who got wiped out by a hurricane. "I can definitely do without everybody going on and on about the great state of Texas." Republic, but whatever. "I'm here to get noticed, get recruited, and get my ass to LSU. And you? You're just trying to scrape by... You've seen what I can do. You want to start Saracen? You go right ahead." Then he gets up and walks out. Taylor asks him to leave the office door open, but Voodoo slams it behind him. Well, decision made, if you ask me. Let's see how Voodoo plans to "get noticed" when his disrespectful ass is parked on the bench.
Nighttime at the local diner. Out in the parking lot, Smash is giving some encouraging words to Matt Saracen. "You and me? State and Main," he proclaims. Smash is a Mamet fan? Matt clearly has no idea what this means, but the tone is unmistakable and he'll take validation where he can get it. Smash snags a couple of passing cheerleaders and tells them how awesome he and Matt are. "It's like I'm Glengarry, and he's Glen Ross," Matt wisely refrains from adding. The girls ask Matt if he's starting on Friday, and Matt stutter-smiles that he might be. How much do you suppose Matt's paying Voodoo to act like such an asshole?
Meanwhile, at Applebee's, Taylor's doodling play diagrams on some napkins when Tami rejoins him at the table and stuffs them down the front of her shirt. "We're having dinner," she says. "You can forage for them later." Coach doesn't look nearly as cheered by the prospect as you might think. If she's looking for that kind of attention, maybe when the time comes she should just do away with the napkins altogether, give him a handful of Cheerios and Apple Jacks, and let him go to town.
Across the dining room, a young blond guy named Connor with spiky hair, stubble, and a yellow tie and dress shirt (presumably over a t-shirt that reads "NOT FROM AROUND HERE") looks nonplussed when Tyra appears with his dessert and a coffee refill. She explains how she replaced his elderly previous waitress due to a shift change, and the dude pretends to be disappointed at the upgrade. Just then a convertible full of football players drives by outside, flying a Panthers banner from the open top. Tyra explains this phenomenon to the new guy: "A bunch of overheated jocks, too dumb to know they have no future, fighting over a game that has no meaning, in a town from which there is no escape." She glares out the window angrily throughout this little outburst, and just for a moment she almost cracks up, but then decides not to. Way to commit. Connor clearly digs this feisty small-town chick. "Anyway," Tyra says, "my name is Tyra, and I'll be at your service for the next six hours." Or maybe it'll just seem that long.