After the commercial break, we're in Col. Broyles' stunning house in Glen Cove, New York, where his wife welcomes him home with a kiss and hug and asks how the service went. Uh oh. We're going to find out he's not actually evil, aren't we?
He says it was difficult, then asks about his son. His wife laughs and says he can't stop talking about some girl in his class. "If only I could get him to pay half as much attention to his homework as he does to those girls," she says. You want him to masturbate to his homework?
Anyway, Diane tells him Chris is in the living room, where they've been entertaining Col. Broyles' friend. Col. Broyles seems stunned to learn he has a friend, but when he goes into the living room he sees that it's David Robert Jones, who says -- in that hissing way of speaking that he has -- that he's been catching up with Christopher, who is a remarkable young man and it's a pleasure to finally meet him. Broyles stares at him, wide-eyed.
So he and Jones step into another room, where Col. Broyles reminds him that they have protocols about making contact and showing up at his home isn't one of them. Jones says he wanted to bring something to Broyles personally, given that it's a tad overdue and hands over a little leather zip-up case that contains four hardcore-looking syringes. Jones, with his gross red eye, says, "Christopher's responding extraordinarily well to treatment. It's hard to imagine that a few months ago, he was in constant pain, his eyesight was gone, that he was..." "...dying," finishes Col. Broyles. "Every parent's nightmare," says Jones, at once sympathy and a threat. He also brings up Lincoln Bee and Col. Broyles tells him he buried a good man today. "And I'm also well aware that Agent Bee isn't the first casualty of our... collaboration," says Col. Broyles. But still, it's his son, right? Jones says love makes us vulnerable, but it also makes us human. Col. Broyles, looking a little worried about what may come, would like to know if there's anything other than just aphorisms and Jones promises to call on him shortly.
Over in Springfield, Mass., (we've flashed back to Earth-1), David Jones's agent is riding in a cab, holding a metal briefcase. He pushes a few buttons on the top and it makes some kind of electronic noise and he sets it on the floor of the cab. "Right here's fine," he tells the cabbie, who pulls over and lets him out. He doesn't even have to close the door before a woman's jumping in the backseat and asking the cab driver to take her to Liberty Heights. She fails to notice the briefcase on the floor, this despite the bright-red ring on the top. I'm no terrorist, but maybe some electrical tape to cover that up?