Nancy Drew and the Case of the Vulva Hickey. Clare takes a deep breath to calm herself, then goes into her meeting with Dr. Pap Smear's lawyer. "I'm sorry, did you have something more important you were doing?" sneers Spencer, annoyed. Clare says she was doing last-second research. "I think you'll be pleased," she tells Spencer. "You won't be," she sneers at her opponent. The man complains that he's not interested in being there because there's absolutely no way this case will win any settlement of any kind. "We all know this case will be settled," she counters. "The only question is, how much." Again, the opposing counsel states that she's greener than he thought if she thinks she's milking any money out of Dr. Pap Smear. "Look, if you want to discuss the merits, we can, and by the way, they exist," Clare begins, using words like "splashdown" to describe the fainting incident, and how it was deeply predictable that it might happen given the man's flu the day before. She talks about a bunch of reasons why they can sue the pants off Dr. Pap Smear for burying his face in a client's vagina. "The point is, the plaintiff is the sister of a senior partner," Clare says triumphantly. "I'll say it again: sister of senior partner." Spencer looks impressed, and resolves to introduce her to his senior partner later. Clare explains haughtily that there's no way Pete Warrick will let them lose this case and face disappointed glares from an overbearing sister during every holiday season. Her fake tan glows with imminent victory. "Oh, and the green on my face you make mention of? You're right, I need very much to make a good impression here," Clare adds. "Why? Sister of senior partner." Spencer now appears completely horny. "That gives me, and accordingly this case, teeth," Clare concludes. Spencer starts humping the table in utter euphoria.

Clare brags to Lynne about her success, and how she presented the lawyer with twelve cases holding that accidental touchings count as battery. She lugs around huge files because she is knowledgeable and important. She babbles on and on about how many different legal loopholes she could use. "We're going to get an offer, I'm going to get a good result, and those power-dicks are going to have to start giving me trials!" she rejoices. Lynne's face falls; Jeannie turns, and surprise, there's Meredith, ironically the dickiest of the power-dicks. These girls went to law school, yet they can't shut their yaps in the office. Nice. No wonder people treat them like particularly stupid heaps of dirt. "Is that what you call us? 'Power-dicks'?" Meredith wonders coldly. "Do I have a nickname?" Clare contemplates lying, until Meredith notes that she probably already knows, so if Clare lies, she's just as busted. Clare admits that they call her The Praying Mantis. Meredith's expression remains stony. "I see the way you look at me," she growls. "The look like, 'We'll never become like her.' Do you tell yourselves that?" The girls are silent. Clare tries to look charmingly terrified, but it reads more like she's trying to decide what to wear. "Here's a tip," Meredith offers. "The women who survive here? This is the picture." Clare looks terrified. She would rather die than get a power perm.