Paris, Day: Siobhan strolls into the Paris branch of One International Bank, dressed in clothes that just scream femme fatale -- floppy black hat, sunglasses, leather trench with gold buttons, a leopard print scarf tied around her pocketbook strap. She hands the teller a withdrawal slip and, in French, asks to withdraw some money. When the teller enters her information in the computer, he tells her that the account was closed yesterday, in Manhattan. As Siobhan walks outside, she dials her cell and says, "She's ruining everything. It has to get done. Sooner, rather than later." She hangs up without waiting for a response or saying goodbye. We cut back to the...

Loft. Bridget lays down her weapons bag and opens the dead man's chest Dead Guy's trunk. It is completely empty of Dead Guy, and any and all of his things, including his bodily fluids. Bridget gasps as she lets the lid slam back down. Title card. Grrr argh.

Well that's it for me, this week. I have more to say, but the wee-est things about my weecaps are the wee deadlines. And I've just about hit mine. The show dropped a bit in the ratings this week. I don't how long the network will give it to find its legs, but I hope it gets some time. I think Ringer is a weird fit for the CW and 90210 seems like a strange (and weak) lead-in for it, but I don't know if the CW has a suitable lead-in for a show like this. I'm just going to enjoy it while it lasts.

I'll be back next after next week's "If You Ever Want A French Lesson." In the meantime, please grade the episode at the top of the page and then join us in the show thread, where I'll gladly keep an eye on your weapons bag full of cash.

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