Tax blah. Patty's still fighting with her dad for control of the process.
In bed, Patty says she's scared. Graham strokes her arm and reassures her, "It's okay. Prison's not that bad. And I'll wait for you." Hee! Patty recaps her lunch with Dad and reiterates, in case we didn't notice it before, that she has a hard time asserting herself with him; all the while, Graham is trying to get fresh (if you know what I'm saying, and I think you do) and Patty jokingly whines that her crappy day has inspired Graham to initiate "foreplay" (which is a word I really hate, incidentally). Graham tells Patty, "I like it when you actually need me," which seems like a very forlorn thing for a husband to tell a wife. Patty dismissively replies, "Of course I need you!" and then finds the creepy/tender moment to be the perfect time to remind him to talk to Angela about the concert. Whttt-ttsh! (That's a whip-crack, y'all.)
In what appears to be the middle of the night, Angela steals downstairs and snaps open Graham's briefcase. Danielle appears on the stairs and asks her what she's doing; Angela hisses at her to "get out of here," and Danielle scurries off. As Angela rifles through the case, AVO admits, "I didn't know what I was looking for. Some kind of...proof -- something that would make it make sense for me to hate him." Graham strolls down the stairs and sees her spying. He stands on the landing a minute until she looks up and notices him; she slams the case shut and, wringing her hands, guiltily lies, "Um, I lost..." He cocks his head disbelievingly. "Part of my homework," she concludes lamely. He asks if she found it; she says no, and brushes past him up the stairs, avoiding his eye. Graham impotently watches her go.
More tax blah. Graham, Patty, and Dad all wait morosely at Chase Place for the IRS lady. She comes to the door, and is played by a woman who starred in a brief series of Pine-Sol ads.
Time ticks by. IRS Lady checks out an ugly-ass clock. Patty -- talking too fast -- volunteers that it belonged to Graham's grandmother, and that though it's "practically worthless," it "keeps good time." Unflappable IRS Lady replies, "Well, then, it's not worthless," like, simmah, Patty, god!