Cue the ravening horde. Mahone steps to the podium and employs the extremely effective trick of speaking in low, calm tones. It's brilliant. Everyone has to shut up and listen to his monologue: "I'd like to talk about John Wilkes Booth for a moment, if I could. Abraham Lincoln's killer. Twelve days -- that's how long it took to find him. In his journal during this period, he wrote that the shadow was his friend, the night his domain."
And this is where we cut to Lincoln running through the woods in broad daylight. Well done, editors! Mahone continues, "He acknowledged that whatever neuroses drove the criminal to commit the original crime is compounded, magnified..." And here we go to Michael, who's somehow managing not to trip over his bugged-out eyes as he runs. Okay, editors, this one I will give you -- nice cut. Back to the Mahone monologues: "...by flight. By the sounds of dogs at his heels. Fear becomes paranoia..." And here we go to Sucre, so all y'all who are smitten with the big goofball, I hope you're steeling yourself for the worst. Mahone continues, "Paranoia becomes psychosis." And...we go to Abruzzi. Is anyone surprised? Mahone explains, "I bring this up because in 140 years, the fundamental mind of the escaped man has not changed. The escaped man is still human, he is still afraid, and he will stop at nothing in his attempted flight." We see Abruzzi sliding a gun into the waistband of his pants. Mahone adds, "Fortunately for us, while our quarry has shadow and night as his ally, we have something far greater -- television." Well, there goes all of C-Note's hard work down the drain. So then Mahone wraps up by exhorting everyone who watches TV to spend endless hours gazing upon Team Escarpara. Clearly, the guy has never been to the forums, or else he'd know that some of y'all are doing that already.
Team Escarpara runs into a clearing and pauses so they can give Sucre a much-needed complaining break. You can see where his forbearance was beginning to cramp, and he was getting a stitch in his side from having to suck it up. Now that C-Note's also taken the pause that refreshes, he has renewed energy. He uses it to raise his arm and point an accusing finger at Abruzzi, whose airline strategy was only slightly less addlepated than those by which the major U.S. airline carriers go. Abruzzi strides forward to proclaim, "Yoo were never gunna be on thah plane, brotha." Bzzzt! For a truly chilling rejoinder, he should have gone with, "Cut out your complaining...or I'll cut off your arm." 'Cause, see, everyone knows he'd do it too.