Max and Liz study and flirt at The House That Government Subsidy Built, because when you're cramming for mysterious exams we've heard nothing else about, it's important to do so in a space in which neither of you actually lives, where you won't be interrupted by trifling décor like overhead lighting or a lack of roaches. But no matter. Michael Michael Motorcycle enters in a huff and introduces "Connie. Her father is the pilot of that crashed jet. Air Force said her father was a traitor on the run, but she doesn't buy it. Neither do I. They tried to kill her." Well, thanks for the "last half-hour on Roswell" brush-up. I guess I could just as well have tuned in now when the rest of you were…ah crap, there's still no one here, is there? BoyTess says Michael heard that Max could help. And so it's private confab time. Max and Michael step outside, Max asking, "What's going on?" Michael tells him to "trust your second-in-command to know what's right." Max employs that therapist's staple of conversational acumen by taking the last two words the other person said and turning that into a new question: "What's right? What's next, JFK was killed by aliens?" Oh, enough JFK already. Everybody knows he was killed by the Mafia. It was McKinley who was killed by aliens. Duh. Max and Michael resort to the comfortable patter of Script Fighting By Rote, with the serve-and-volley tension ("What's happening to you?" "Me? What's happening to you?") escalating to the point where one of them threatens to ask what is happening to the other yet another time. What I'm really interested in is the conversation that's gone unfilmed in the next room. "So, I hear you're a robot." "Yup. So, I hear you're a boy." "Yup."