Lynne braces herself for a tirade from Meredith. "If you came here to tell me I have to be you to survive here, I'm not in the mood," she says rudely. "And before you say 'I'm disappointed,' let me tell you, the feeling is mutual." And then, Lynne, this totally cocky little wench, utters the most trite line these writers could've barfed onto the page. "What chance does feminism have at this sweathole when the strong women become one of them?" she rants. And what chance do other young women have when three of them act like arrogant little models with strong senses of entitlement? Shut up and grow up and take your lumps, Lynne, or else you'll be serving me two lumps in my coffee. "What happens when you go to the bathroom?" Lynne continues unconscionably. "You leave the toilet seat up and thump your chest saying 'I've made it'?" Meredith snarls that Lynne is an arrogant little snot. Hooray for her. I'm not supposed to like her, but she's the only one talking sense. "I'm the last bastion of masculinity around this place," Meredith intones. "I'm not one of them, and I never will be, and nor will you unless you somehow learn the art of ejaculating in your partner's face." Oh, Michelle Pfeiffer, I'm so sorry. Really. You poor thing. Meredith explains the whole ejaculation-as-power thing, to which Lynne replies that Meredith's power comes from cynicism, which she thinks is deadlier. "Sometimes it's the only prism which gives you a glimpse of the truth," Meredith counters. Lynne doesn't get what great truth she's missing, so Meredith reveals that the only reason Lynne got the case was because Giancarlo figured Noel was guilty -- so if she lost, which he figured she would, then the outcome was the just one and at least she'd cut her teeth somewhere. "And you did learn," Meredith points out. "You're better today than you were yesterday. That's what I came in here to offer." Lynne is speechless, because she's such a little asshole.
Giancarlo enters as Meredith is leaving, and shuts the door. He breaks the news that Noel hung himself in his cell, probably an accident during an attempt at autoerotic asphyxiation. Lynne buries her face in her hands. Giancarlo decides to offer her a bone, because her petulant behavior hasn't warranted one in the least, and compliments her on her poise during the trial. "I hope you know the reason I push you so hard is because I think you're a keeper," he offers. "You make me sound like a trout," Lynne retorts. What? Shut UP, Lynne. Christ. You're so fucking lippy.