Olivia's looking at an array of FBI surveillance photos of Observers in various locations. It's like one of those scenes in The Bachelor when the current bachelordouche and Chris Harrison survey the pictures of the women he will deign to give a rose to, only if all the women were hairless men in '50s suits. It's the baldest Bachelor finale ever! Olivia picks one out, and says it's him. Broyles asks if she's sure, because they all look like the same man. Tsk! Racist. Olivia is sure. Broyles tells her that they've been looking at "these people" (there he goes again!) for three years (so this is much like when, in the first season, Broyles similarly let her in on the Observers -- although I guess in this time stream they're not using that name), and he's wondering why they made contact now. Olivia has no idea, but she tells Broyles about the blood sample she had Astrid run: "There was no match on the DNA, but she did find antibodies for the Spanish flu," she tells Broyles, the last recorded epidemic of which was in 1919. He's an old dude, is what she's saying. Any boogie-woogie flu? Rockin' pneumonia? Broyles wants to assign her a security detail, but she thinks the guy was warning her, not threatening her. Either way, Broyles expects her to notify him if she sees him again.
Downtown Boston. A teenage girl is sitting in a garden patch on the corner of a building, painting the flower shop across the street, when she seems to be pained by some sort of humming. She winces, then flips to a new page in her book, grabs a pencil, and starts sketching frantically, some of which she's doing without even looking at the page. We only get to see snatches of what she's drawing, not the whole picture. Glancing around, the girl fixates on a couple crossing the intersection. She finishes the drawing, tears it from her pad and chases after the couple, and without saying anything more than "Excuse me," she hands him the drawing, and runs away, looking all sad. The woman asks the man if he knows her, and he says no, and then they look at the drawing. She's a little more horrified than he is -- we still don't get to see it -- and he says, "She's talented. Twisted, but talented." The woman wants to know why anyone would draw something like that, and the man chalks it up to her being a teenager and how all teenagers play depressing music and think about how everything sucks and then tries to make everyone else creepy. He's not grumpy about it, but he still seems a little young for the half-baked "get off my lawn" attitude.