...played by Leslie Hope, formerly of 24, who is sleeping in her bra, like, I am so sure. Bras aren't that comfortable. I don't care how wasted I am -- not that, you know, I drink a lot or anything; I never go to sleep in my bra. It's this kind of thing -- striving for realism, but being hamstrung by network standards and practices -- that makes the show feel more contrived than it needs to. Instead of going for "gritty drunkard woman sleeping in her bra" as a placeholder for what would otherwise probably be a topless scene, just make it look like she went to sleep in her all her clothes, people. Anyway. She wakes up, rolls over, and answers the ringing phone. "Bert's dead, Lisa. Charlie shot him," Amiel tells her as she reaches for a glass of wine on the bedstand. 6:20 in the morning. My kinda girl. Lisa covers her eyes, but I don't know if that's in reaction to the bad news, or a hangover. "Dammit. What happened to Miller?" she asks. Amiel explains that Bert took him out before he got plugged. Lisa puts a cigarette in her mouth and wonders around it if anyone has notified "Estelle." Shaken, Amiel says he figured Lisa would want to do that. "Lisa, you're gonna do that, right?" he repeats. Lisa mutters that she will, and hangs up on poor freaked-out Amiel, saying that she has to call " the director." She puffs thoughtfully on her cigarette as a title card introduces her as "Lisa Cohen, FBI Special Agent in Charge, Richmond Division."
Split screen! As Lisa thinks, we head over to see David Paymer: The Most Miscast Mob Boss Ever, as he interrogates a hot young shirtless football player tied to a tree in the woods. Apparently, this kid was supposed to throw a game, but he saw a nice opening in the opposing team's defensive line and just went for the touchdown. He couldn't help it. "I'm an athlete, okay? I did it for the love of the game," he says. David Paymer looks unimpressed and also constipated. He complains that he lost $350,000 on that game. But he admires "a sense of competition in an athlete," and that's why he's not going to have Hot Shirtless Football Player wacked. He's just going to have his flunky beat the shit out of the kid's hands with a mallet instead. "Mr. Malloy, Please!" the kid yells as the flunky goes apeshit on his poor little hands. Title card: "Jonah Malloy, Boss, Malloy Crime Syndicate." Not. I would believe "Jonah Malloy, Weaselly Network Executive," or "Jonah Malloy, Crabby Father of Angsty Teen," but mob boss? No thanks, I'll pass.