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The Paris Death Match
Regina: You know what? Shut up.
Wendy Kroy: That's original. You like the bad boys, girl. Face it.
Regina: Just for that, I'm making Julio put on a snowsuit and a parka. No more cut-offs for you, sister.
Wendy Kroy: Bitter much?
Regina: Bite me.
Wendy Kroy: Bitch.
Regina: Slag.
Wendy Kroy: Cocksucker.
Regina: Takes one to know one.
Wendy Kroy: Excellent point. Julio! More refreshments for the cocksuckers!

So, uh, Vaughn's all sheepish and sorry and declares that he doesn't know how to be Sydney's handler without it being personal. "Figure out a way," rasps Agent Sean, leaving. Vaughn just stares down at his navel, apparently finding it nearly as interesting as Sydney found hers.

Interrogation Room For International Cuties. Sloane's pouring grape juice -- er, wine into a couple of glasses. Sark watches, salivating at the thought of pouring the sweet red elixir down his throat. Sark says that he was actually kind of kidding when he asked for the wine. He seriously thought that, after what Khasinau did with Shovelhead and the whole "taking over SD-6" plan, Sloane would split his belly with a hunting knife before running down to the SD-6 wine cellar in pursuit of a fine vintage.

"Do you think that's the kind of activity the CIA engages in?" says Sloane smugly. "Not the CIA," smoothes Sark. They have a quick staring contest in which Sloane correctly surmises that Sark's not your average hot dumb blond British sexpot guest star. Sloane says something about how Khasinau must trust Sark with oodles of important info, because he trusted him with the whole Moscow/K-Directorate thing. Sark's all, yeah, but he doesn't tell me everything, okay? So stop fishing.

Sloane swirls the wine, sticks his nose in the glass, takes a rather disgusting slurp, and Cheshirely smiles at Sark before declaring that they will collaborate, whether Sark wants to or not. "You will lead me to Khasinau," Sloane finishes. "Understood?" Sark just glances at the wine and asks for a sip. Sloane walks over and actually puts the glass to Sark's lips and gives him a drink. Yeah, it's kind of gross. But because I want Sark and I want him BAD, it's also kind of sexy. Yeah, I know. Ew. Shut up.

Conference Room Of Endless Expositions. Sloane's telling the troops that Sark's being relatively cooperative. After Dixon asks what the next move is and covertly glances at Sydney like she's sporting a placard that reads, "I am NOT working for SD-6," Sloane informs them that Sark's scheduled to meet up with Khasinau in a Paris nightclub, and Syd and Dix will be attending that meeting. Syd wants to know if they're supposed to abduct Khasinau. Nope. Sloane says that Khasinau's expecting the ampoule, because there's yet another random Rambaldi manuscript with yet more invisible text that only the ampoule solution can illuminate. Say it with me, people: WHAT-FUCKING-EVER.

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