JBL then spots Andi with another guy in The Bench's food court. None of them know who it is, but -- judging from the well-kempt, clued-in look of the guy -- he ain't from around here. Moreover, he's got the generically pleasant appeal of Election-era Chris Klein and a dash of goofy-handsome John Krasinski style; plus he's wearing a pink-and-white Oxford -- hot. JBL is quick to conclude that Andi met this guy at the lecture she invited Sam to attend, and that the pair will probably get married and leave Sam in the dust. If only the writers would allow Andi the good fortune. Sam goes over to greet/interrogate him. We learn that his name is Greg, he goes to the college, and he's totally into Andi.

Greg's convincing Andi to go back to school full-time. For Sam's part, this means Andi would have to quit The Bench. He tries to dissuade her, saying that huge loans will land her back at The Bench. Greg counters that having a college degree might actually lead to a *gasp* career -- with a salary! And a future! As someone with a master's degree and an entry-level job, I beg to differ. But we'll suspend disbelief for now, if only to focus on Sam's dismal future. So futureless Sam comes back at Greg's tantalizing with, "There's a future here at Work Bench -- toilets! Everybody needs 'em." Andi smiles awkwardly. Greg digs the knife in deeper, saying, "I'm not knockin' you, Sam. I'm just saying Andi could be so much more." And he's just summed up the essence of Sam's weakness in six words. With that stunning judgment, Greg departs. Andi cringes, then vamooses.

In the employees' lounge, JBL and Ben look through the stolen mail. Sam apprises them of the Andi situation but holds out hope that Andi will stay. Moving on, he asks the others if they found anything. Nothing unusual, it seems, until Sam spies mail belonging to Harold Bunsen. Ben locates a gas bill showing Bunsen moved into Horseshoe Court two months ago -- around the time the murders began. They suspect Bunsen, and JBL says they can know for sure.

Cut to the courthouse. Conveniently, JBL still has a set of Josie's keys from when they dated. He keeps it for "emergencies only," such as taking naps at her apartment. Then we see a regrettable gag involving Josie's log-in password "grumpy," a.k.a. JBL's weenis. Sam -- to the relief of all -- declines to learn the history of this nickname.