Oooh. New set. Let's call it Monster Joe's Tux And Tow. We're at a suit-type men's shop, Jesse standing next to Max and telling the proprietor of the store that he would like to "try the double-breasted." Which I think is another subtle hint to his so-called "best" so-called "man." The hint being, "Step off it, Max. I'm a double-breasted man only." Max looks like he's in a coma. Michael enters and shakes Jesse's hand, telling him that he's getting "a great girl." Ugh. I hate that dowry-talk shit. Michael kicks off with some light small talk: "So, twenty-five hours and counting." Hey, look who just got back from the craft services table after a long lunchtime talk with Font! Michael and Font are best, best friends. But wait! I smell a wacky ruse afoot. Michael and Max make some eye contact, and Michael launches in, "So, you're a local boy?" Born and raised. "And then you went to Harvard?" Grad school. But undergrad was at Cornell. Max: "That's in upstate New York, right?" Shout-out! I went to college in upstate New York. But not near the damn frozen tundra wasteland of Ithaca. Much more to the south. By twelve or so whole miles. Not that you asked. But really, it would have been nice if you had. They grill Jesse on why he would have wanted to get out of Roswell, and they all commiserate on a restless feeling that makes you want to get out of Roswell. Word. But they keep pulling you back in. Cut to later, the three sitting around a table in the suit store, Jesse explaining, "Anyway, I didn't make the law review, so I knew I wouldn't be clerking for anyone on the Supreme Court." But then Max takes it a step too far with the questioning, and Jesse asks not-at-all-ironically, "What are you guys, interrogating me or something?" And then, this episode's fatal error repeats itself, allowing the characters to improv, all, "Of course not! No! Don't be silly! No!" Michael stands up and takes Jesse's suit jacket, sticking a pin in the sleeve and telling Jesse to try it on. Ow! He's bleeding. Max dabs the blood and they're off with it in a hurry. Jesse is dubious. Time lapse again. Endless quantities of time were indicated to have passed during that scene. Alien Bold Font pops up on the screen and is all, "The wedding was three weeks ago!" Pipe down, Font.
Makeshift Science Lab That Government Subsidy Made In A Makeshift Fashion. Michael inspects the blood cells under a microscope and reports to Max over the phone, "We got bad news, Maxwell. Jesse Ramirez is, ta-da, human." And he says the "ta-da" with such casual venom that you can actually hear him hating this show through his dialogue. Man. This season really is going well. A frenzied knock on Michael's door gets him off the phone with Max, and he opens said door to find Isabel in a bit of a breathy panic, telling him, "Michael, I'm in trouble. We may all be in trouble. There's an alien out there and he's after me." It's not Jesse, though. He's a human. Ta. Da.
Michael -- like America -- wants to know what the big damn deal is: "You know, it might just be a dream, Isabel. You're under a lot of pressure, a lot of anxiety. And what's so strange about dreaming about an alien?" Isabel responds that this is an alien "who knows me. Who's intimate with me." She continues on, "What if it's…what if it's…" Michael sincerely asks, "Who?" And thus, Isabel is forced to break the silence on He Who Must Not Be Named, or in this case, He Whose Name No One Seems To Remember For Ten Or Twenty Consecutive Episodes On End. She whispers all spitefully, "Khivar! What if it's Khivar?" Michael says that it's still nothing more than a dream, telling her that she feels guilty about what she did "back then." All Isabel knows is that she betrayed Michael and Max for this Khivar, asking, "Who does something like that make me? What if I betray Jesse the way I betrayed both of you?" But what if Jesse is the…oh, never mind. Isabel then notices the microscope and quickly moves into shrieky bitch mode, yelling, "Is this Jesse's blood? Are you testing his blood now?" And for some extremely odd reason, "Hava Negilah" kicks up hardcore on the soundtrack as Maria bursts in and tells Isabel that her dress has turned up…in Florida. No shout-out there. Not much of a Florida fan, I. Michael doesn't mind the soundtrack music this week. Because with the hair now, he's looking more than his fair share of Eighteenth Century composer, now isn't he?