The receptionist and her tray of cleavage slink into T-Bag's office to ask if he needs anything. T-Bag grins and tells her, "I'm all right, little lady." Oh, honey, you need to go home, buy a nice bateau-neck sweater or two, and look outside the office for your next date. T-Bag then ponders the book and asks, "What was your plan, Mr. Whistler? What was your plan?"
His plan probably didn't include getting Mr. Xing killed, but that's what is happening some 3000 miles to the east. Xing's executed by an angry Asian bald guy ("So. You don't have Scylla.") and it looks like we now have another group in play for the darn card. The angry bald guy (again -- what is with this show and its tonsorial austerity?) decides that he's feeling better now that he's vented himself with a few well-placed stabs to someone else's kidneys. He's going to Disneyland! Or, to be more accurate, he's going to Los Angeles.
Back at Scylla HQ, Sucre's pinning up a picture of Lisa and crowing, "Number two down. On to number three." Linc asks if Roland picked up anything off Lisa's phones, and it looks like he did, but he quickly closes all the windows and lies about not getting anything. Linc then comes over to Bellick and quietly thanks him for what he did with the goon. Bellick, who looks a little shattered, doesn't say anything.
Mahone comes over to Roland, notices Roland's reflexive wince, then says quietly, "I need you to do something for me. I'm looking for the man who killed my son." This grabs Roland's attention. He quietly asks, "What do you need?" Mahone hands over the police report, which has a sketch of Agent Blots Out the Sun, and says brokenly, "I need you to get into the FBI database and find a profile. This man is a professional assassin. He's African-American, about six-foot-four, 220 pounds. That's for your eyes only." Roland is frozen, either from social awkwardness or trepidation. Or perhaps he and Agent Blots Out the Sun are best friends, and this has just made his deep cover in Team Scylla super-difficult. Who knows?
Finally, this week's plotline to be described in two paragraphs: Dr. Sara is tremendously affected by Bruce's death. You can't blame her: in the Prison Break timeline, her father had died only a few weeks (months?) ago, and now her surrogate father is dead, owing entirely to his involvement with Dr. Sara. So she leaves the Team Scylla HQ and heads over to a dive bar. The bartender -- whose default facial expression is "Do not waste my time by lying to me, because I will know, and I will make you suffer" -- gets Dr. Sara a club soda. She then asks, "How many years?" "Sorry?" Dr. Sara asks. The bartender elaborates, "In the program. How many years have you been sober?" We find out that Dr. Sara's allegedly been sober for three years and three months. I'm guessing that little overdose at the end of season one didn't count? She continues chatting with the bartender, asking, "Is life a tragedy, or is there hope?" The bartender is in no mood to indulge anyone's existential ramblings. She shrugs, "You tell me." Dr. Sara then orders a double bourbon, neat. The bartender silently slams it down, and as Dr. Sara's inhaling the odor of the booze, a barfly with some truly tragic hair toasts her with "Cheers, honey." This is enough for her to put down the glass. She's a stronger woman than I -- that dude's poodle-style ponytail is enough to make me want a drink.