Did my eyes deceive me? Did we get two -- possibly even three -- female characters in this episode who can think on their feet?
The first character never even appears on-screen: she's T-Bag's former ladylove, and it turns out that the minute Susan found out her ex escaped, she moved. T-Bag finds this out the hard way: he goes to her house and discovers it nearly empty. As he sulks around the kitchen, his dreams of courting Susan with sunflowers and stab wounds in pieces on the floor, Bellick catches up with him. T-Bag gets off the best line of the night â it includes the phrase âmachinations of loveâ â but Bellick ultimately gets the last laugh.
The second woman to think fast on her feet: Mahone's ex-wife Pam, who calls Michael out on his bluff that he's merely doing a background check on our favorite crazy conspiracy stooge. Michael is doing the background check because Mahone's messed with his escape plans one too many times, and Michael wants to mess with Mahone's head. He soon discovers this is ridiculously easy to do. All it requires is a phone call to Mahone, wherein Michael deduces what nobody in the whole Federal Bureau of Investigation has figured out thus far. That sends Mahone off to dig Oscar Shales's bones out of the birdbath.
And garnering an honorable mention for her mad thinking skillz is Dr. Sara, who manages to figure out what the missing origami bird was going to say. She's on her way to meet up with the boys in New Mexico. Unfortunately, so are the feds.
The final female character who figures big in this episode is Kacee. Thanks to C-Note and a few of his good friends from back in the day, she manages to elude Lang and reunite with her daughter and her husband. Y'all, this storyline was so tense, I ended up watching it through my fingers.
In other plotline news: L.J. and Linc have many road-trip adventures, but ultimately end up re-captured. Is it wrong to look forward to Michael's reaction when he finds out?
Previously on Prison Break: Linc demonstrated that when you hit your own kid, it's abuse, but when you hire someone else to do it, it's love. Also, Michael and Sucre spent a lot of time getting wet together. They're now registered at Sur Le Table.
We open at the Blanding Botanical Gardens. Michael pops into view, then rolls up his sleeve to check his tattoo. What, does he now have the taxonomic tree for kingdom Plantae inked on his right arm? "Okay, I know all the plants here are in subkingdom Tracheobionta, but I always get confused after that -- are the ferns in Filicophyta or Pteridophyta? Is that why there's this pterodactyl on my arm?"
Oh, how I wish. We don't get a very good look at what clue Michael got -- I think it's a low, clustered flower -- before he's off to bluff his way onto the volunteer gardener team. He tells another volunteer that manager Jimmy Madan said he could change shifts, then sprints off. Michael then heads over to a flower labeled the "Apache Desert Ghost." It's probably a succulent of some sort, but what sits wrong with me is how the rest of the garden appears to be devoted to our little friends the Pteridophyta, and ferns are not exactly the stars of the desert landscape. What sort of botanical garden is it that sticks a desert succulent in the middle of a humid, wet landscape? Haven't these people ever heard of root rot?
But Michael has bigger things to worry about than a botanical garden full of ig'nant landscapers. He has to worry about a botanical garden full of FBI agents. What tips him off is the floral photographer who's dumped half a pack's worth of cigarette butts on the ground: in addition to this being boorish behavior, it's also a tip-off that the guy's been there a while and is clearly waiting for something -- or someone. Michael turns around and casually begins strolling away. That is the cue for several volunteer gardeners to stand up and casually begin following him. The photographer joins him, and we get confirmation that yes, he's an agent sent to stake out Scofield.
Then the chase is on, only it's not so much a "chase" as it is "a bunch of guys doing purposeful, yet elaborately casual race-walking." Michael cleverly puts an elementary school class between himself and the agents, then begins running through what looks to be a shade garden. He then goes through what appears to be the Mediterranean garden -- I spy what looks like some salvia and penstemon -- then ducks behind a row of eucalyptus. The faux-tographer sees the white sweatshirt and beige vest that all the volunteers (real or otherwise) were wearing. He draws his gun and orders the guy to freeze. Unsurprisingly, it's not Michael. Scofield lives to stare another day!