On her way out, Clare makes eye contact with Spencer's secretary, who shoots her a "flavor of the week" look. Storming through the halls with her head down, Clare starts to cry. Except she's really just wrinkling her nose and making heaving noises.

God, this apartment is HUGE. Wooden floors, huge rooms, and of course overdecorated in the way only TV-show apartments are. Lynne and Sarah are flopped on couches, moping. Clare decides to be the upbeat roommate and switches off the radio. "Come on," she says. "It wasn't the worst week in the world." Sarah glares at her. "Lynne's client hung himself, I lost my one and only client, [Henry] thinks I should contact a headhunter, and I could be a closet homophobe," Sarah recaps. "It was the worst week in the world." Clare brags that she had a great day because she settled her case. "Lynne, you tried a capital case solo and got a new trial for your dead client, you impressed a partner even though he likened you to a fish, and Sarah, standing up to Randa was overdue," Clare rattles off. She wants to go out to dinner to celebrate her actual triumph and the fake success she invented for her friends so that they will therefore be likely to agree to go out and celebrate Clare's triumph. Nice strategy. They mostly want her to stop being Suzy Cheerleader, so they agree. And as Sarah and Lynne start to get excited about the idea, Clare turns around so that we can see the private pain creep into her eyes, because she's our stoic little leader and she needs a hug, but instead she's going to get sushi. That's a terrible trade, though. Lynne warns them not to let her get too sloshed. "One drink on sushi..." she begins. Sarah perks up. "Are we drinking?" she asks. Clare exhales tiredly. "Ohhhh, yeah," she nods. Welcome to my recapping universe, ladies.