Cut to Mike, alone in the Lair, staring at the plane ticket on the table.
Back to the prom. More dancing. Justin takes off Brian's jacket and tosses it to Daphne. Good luck getting that back, Brian. Brian twirls Justin all over the dance floor, and then bends him over backwards. I admit it. I cheered. Gale and Randy play this whole thing with such joy. The dance ends with Brian picking Justin up and twirling him around some more, as they kiss. Hobbes, other than seeing red, can't see anything but them. Grinning, Brian drags Justin off the dance floor.
The airport. Mike rushes to his gate. He asks a stray stewardess whether his flight is still there. She tells them that they've started boarding, and that if he wants to make it, he'd better book.
Prom Hotel Garage. Justin's still gleefully singing and dancing. Brian laughs. Justin's like, wow, did you see everyone's faces? Brian says that it was definitely a prom no one's going to forget. Justin says he'll never forget it, either. Brian wraps the scarf around Justin's neck as Justin gasps, "It's the best night of my life." Brian grins, "Even if it was ridiculously romantic." They kiss sweetly. Justin still can't stop smiling. Brian says goodbye and gets into his Jeep, and Justin steps back to watch him drive off. Brian grins at Justin in the rearview mirror...and sees Chris Hobbes step up behind him. Brian calls out to warn Justin, and the boy turns around just in time to get hit in the head with a baseball bat. I've watched it, like, three times already, and I'm still, like, Jesus Christ. Brian jumps out of the car and pushes Chris down on the ground, then takes the baseball bat and hits the little fucker in the knee with it. Kiss your football career goodbye, asshole. Brian then runs over to Justin, who's not moving at all. Brian bends over, uttering "no no no no" over and over.
The airport. Mike's about to go on the runway, but he can't make his carry-on bag fit in the "your carry-on must fit in this space" display. I always worry about that, too.
Cut to the plane, where Demon sits in First Class, looking out the window. Demon looks back at the empty seat beside him, and nervously dusts it off. Thank God you get free booze in First Class.
Back in the terminal, Mike's still trying to get the carry-on to fit when his cell phone rings. Mike pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID number. Three guesses as to who it is. He answers it, walking up the gangplank. He listens for a moment, stopping dead in his tracks, and drops his bag. Cut to Demon, still waiting.