In the lab, Walter's got one of his albums on the turntable, playing "The Air that I Breathe" by the Hollies. I guess Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces" would be a little too on the nose. Peter discreetly draws a handy sheet over the nearly complete remains of officer Gillespie on the table. Think he did that with the centerfold puzzle when it was nearly done? Walter hands Peter a newspaper with a circled apartment ad. "Furnished housing for professors," Walter says bravely. "It's a nice neighborhood. Down the block from where Belly used to live." Peter happily goes off to make a call to Broyles. And Astrid makes a mental note to start bringing her toothbrush to the lab, just in case.
At the bowling alley, which seems to get its music piped in directly from Walter's turntable because the song continues there without missing a beat, Weiss has just finished measuring Olivia's hand when he declares that they're done for the night again. "I just got here," she protests. He doesn't really care, and as he proceeds to the end of one of the lanes with a ball as though to roll it toward the pins (although he's clearly got no time for finger-holes himself), he invites her to return tomorrow. "By then I will have found you the perfect bowling ba--" What's a bowling ba? Well, apparently it's what you call a bowling ball when someone cocks a gun in your ear in the middle of the second word. Which is what Olivia has just done, I what I'm sure is a pretty flagrant breach of FBI protocol. "Now listen to me, you son of a bitch," she snarls. "I am not here to bowl or to try on shoes or to have you play games with my head. I'm here because I was told that you could fix me." Yeah, maybe the first thing he could fix is this tendency to point her gun at people when she doesn't get her way. I mean, is she even paying him? Weiss simply looks down the barrel of her gun, and then behind her. She forgets about her gun and follows his gaze. There, leaning against the seats, a good ten feet from where she's standing in her new bowling shoes, is her cane. "Take care, Agent Dunham," Weiss says mildly, and walks away. Yes, he's a smug fucker, but it was probably a good idea to get out of her sight before she remembers she was about to shoot him. That practice bowl can wait.
It's sunrise at the Federal Building, and Gordon is telling Broyles what on any other show would be so many paranoid fantasies. "The enemy is among us and nobody is doing anything about it...so we had to take matters into our own hands." Okay, any other show that's not on Fox News. Broyles asks what was in the briefcase. Before answering, Gordon realizes that Broyles thinks he's crazy, like the Pentagon does. "I told them what I'm telling you. That they're here. Collecting data. Making observations. That's what's in the briefcases. They've been planning for war. And they've been passing information via courier right under our noses." "Who are they?" Broyles asks, in all seriousness. That's one question Gordon can't answer. "But I can tell you what they want," he says. "They want to exterminate us. So they are studying us. Our culture, our technology, our science. And they plan to use it against us. One way or another, we'll find out who they are. But by then, I suppose it wont' really matter." Hey, can I ask Gordon a question? Like what he planned to do after he ran out of Tin Man subjects to sacrifice? How he found out about the enemy and their plans in general? Or in particular, how he got a hold of these couriers' itineraries? I mean, honestly, what train station doesn't have a guy with a black trenchcoat and a black briefcase in it at any given moment?