Inside, Mahone heads to the fridge and gets two beers -- one for him, and one for Sucre. Sucre grins like a little kid at an ice-cream counter and says, "It's nice to know that the next time I want to drink one of these, I won't have to do it in this crappy warehouse." Oh, my lord, the team is surely screwed now. This is practically the equivalent of that stock scene in a World War II movie where the earnest young recruit whips out a photo and says, "I got me a girl back home, and once we're done fighting here, why, I'm gonna marry her and settle down on the farm." Cut to a pretty woman sniffling into some sergeant's broad chest, all, "I don't understand -- Jimmy and me, why, we were going to get married ..."
Anyway, because of previous commitments like incarceration or bugging out in between illicit doses of anti-psychotic medications, neither Sucre nor Mahone have boned up on their TCM movie viewing. So they're unaware that they're doomed. This just makes Mahone's toasting of Sucre and their subsequent happy sipping that much more poignant. And then Sucre sighs, "I can't even remember being able to sit down at a restaurant or go to a ballgame or -- it seems like I've been running forever." Mahone counsels, "It's time to stand still. Take in the sun." These two are killing me, so let's move on.
Outside, Michael's chatting with Dr. Sara, who says, "I'm supposed to be happy right now, but I'm so scared." Sensible woman, Dr. Sara. Oh, wait, I spoke too soon -- "Just scared that we've come all this way and I'm going to lose you anyway." Michael hugs her, and she says into his shoulder, "Just don't tell me everything's going to be okay." We cut to Michael, who's all, " ... okay."
Then we switch to Trisha, who's grown tired of hanging out with T-Bag and is waiting outside the car for Don Self to pull up at their meeting place. He does, and gets out of the car, looking considerably more bedraggled than usual. He even looks more bedraggled than Trisha, which is something given the morning she's had. However, both agents perk up when looking at Scylla. Trisha asks, "So what's next? Senator Dallow?" Don Self looks quite nervous as he says, "No. I need to tie up some loose ends," and then asks Trisha if Gretchen and T-Bag talked at all about any possible, live buyers for Scylla. Trisha doesn't think so -- "Bagwell might know. Once we get him in an interview room and offer him a deal, his mouth will start moving." Honey, you don't even have to offer him a deal. Four years of recapping this show have taught me that few things will shut T-Bag up. Don looks at Trisha oddly. She ... does not notice. It is a mystery to me how she managed to convince anyone to put her on any kind of undercover work when she misses so many huge behavioral cues.