Crashdown, cover of broad daylight. Maria pours salt into saltshakers and eavesdrops as Monopoly Nazi Evans strolls in and sits down at the counter. He beckons Slackjaw over, and the two refer to each other as "Jeff" and "Philip," and I briefly think these are names they've adopted for each other because perhaps they're rehearsing a play or something. Anyway, Monopoly Nazi kicks it off: "I feel kind of funny about this, but can I speak to you about something?" Slackjaw assents. Monopoly Nazi clarifies, "In private?" Discreet men cavorting privately? Well, like father, like son. Slackjaw suggests, "Let's go in the back." Oh, la la. Like father's son's girlfriend's father, like son.

Jesse is worth divorcing. Golf on TV? Yes, I know Isabel is sound asleep on the bed, but shouldn't he at least be doing something constructive like watching scrambled porn or reading some leaflets about the history of the town and trying to very slowly sound out how "La Jolla" has a J and two Ls and still rhymes with Goya? Anyway, that's just exactly what I'd be doing. On my honeymoon. With my wife. Anyway, Jesse finally gets tired of waiting for Isabel to wake up, so he takes a break from thinking about his putts (Geddit? Thank you! Goodnight!) to see what the hotel has to offer. He picks up a little information card atop the television, and we cut to him clad in only a towel, entering a steamroom kind of room. He puts a leg up and closes his eyes. He has a flash that someone is in the room with him, and opens his eyes to find himself alone. A moment later, a flash again. Anyway know exactly what's coming here? He opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with Khivar, which also causes Isabel to sit up in bed and wonder as to Jesse's whereabouts. Khivar bids him a "hi" just as Isabel finds a note from Jesse that he's gone to the spa at 2:30 and that he'll be back in an hour. Isabel glances at the Timex clock and notes that it is 5:38. Wait a second! That faulty clock math doesn't work at all! Danger!