Patty puts her foot down and starts doing some serious enunciation: "You. Are. Not. Going. Back. To. That. Place," she says. "This is a serious matter." "I know that!" Angela cries. "Why do you speak like this to me -- like I'm a child?" Patty: "This girl, whoever she is, has serious problems!" Angela: "You haven't even talked to her! This girl…she could be me!" "OH, DON'T SAY THAT!" shouts Patty. It's really frightening how this hits a nerve with her. It's like her inner Martha Stewart has gone into a rage and is waving her glue guns like crazy. "She couldn't be you!!! How could you say that?" Angela backs off. "Because it's true," she says. Angry silence. Angela puts away the extra plates. Patty just stands there in shock.

Upstairs, Patty tells Graham about the fight. "It was one of those fights where it doesn't even seem real -- it seems like the fight is having you." Patty tells Graham he'd better go talk to Angela. "Danielle said she went out for a walk," says Graham. Patty puts two and two together and runs out of the room.

Angela crawls back through the door to the warehouse. "Rickie!" she calls. The warehouse is empty. Except for two cops with flashlights. Oops.

Chase house. Patty freaking. Graham rationalizing. Danielle whining: "Will somebody tell me what's going on, for like once in my life?" Patty puts on her coat and tells Graham to stay at the house in case Angela phones. She opens the door to leave, but hey! Brian Krakow is standing outside. "Um, hi. I was just…you know…had -- had nothing like, planned, so I, so --" Patty nods until something snaps: "So WHAT? Spit it out!" she screams. Graham hustles her out the door and pulls Brian inside. "She's just -- in a hurry," he explains. Brian wanders in, stunned. "Don't ask me. I just live here," says Danielle.

Brian sits down by the TV which is showing the most depressing scene of the most depressing black-and-white version of A Christmas Carol ever made, in which Ebenezer sees his own black gravestone in the white snow and turns gray with despair. Violins, moans, et cetera. Brian's bumming. He sighs and takes the Teen Help Line flyer out of his pocket.