A loading door rolls up, and Nina tells the white-jacketed man behind it, Hastings, to "give Dr. Bishop anything he wants." Hastings stares at the two of them, and Nina is all, "Yes, that Dr. Bishop." An awestruck Hastings says it would be an honor. Listen, Hastings, don't think this is going to be a recurring character or anything.

Over on the fringes of what's left of Central Park, Peter is going over with Anil what happened. Anil explains that the Baldie was sitting on the bench and writing in his notebook. Peter asks if he interacted with anyone in the park, and Anil says not that he saw. "Did you see a little girl? She would have been playing with a yellow ball in front of the bench Royce was sitting on," says Peter. Anil is dumbfounded. "How could you know that?" he asks, but Peter ignores him, and says "Royce" was supposed to be distracted by the kid playing as he stood to get up, causing him to forget his briefcase. Anil says Royce wasn't paying attention to any kid; he was talking on his comm. Peter's surprised to hear Royce was on his comm, and decides that was the variable that he failed to see. Royce is all, "What the HELL are you talking about," and Peter -- flashing through his Observo-Vision and seeing this Royce Observer handing over his briefcase at a restaurant -- takes the ringer from Anil and says he'll switch it at the restaurant. Anil is, unsurprisingly, completely baffled. "I know that you have questions, Anil, but I'm just gonna have to ask you to trust me," says Peter, handing Anil a slip of paper with an address. Anil recognizes it as a "Baldie precinct," and Peter explains that at 6:17, Royce and another Observer named Mueller will walk into the building. He wants Anil to call him when they do. Anil, after a moment, says he will.

Peter, carrying the briefcase, gets into a car and hotwires it, when suddenly everything goes bright around him, causing him agony, but it subsides soon, and he puts his hands on the steering wheel.

Over to the Cavatina Bistro now, where Observers cut into some sort of material that approximates food. Peter strolls up to the courtesy desk and says he'd like to check his briefcase. The woman behind the desk, mouth lipsticked to within an inch of its life, remarks that she hasn't seen him in before, and Peter says it's not really his crowd. She whispers that he'd better be careful if he doesn't want to get read. Peter says, "You should get that," moments before the telephone rings. She looks surprised, and Peter calls it an old trick, and goes off to sit at the bar. He checks his watch. Have some oysters, Peter!