You know, Oliver's downward spiral and guilt fest would mean a lot more if 1) one of the "good guys" would at least suggest he turn himself in, and 2) it weren't virtually guaranteed that they'll find out Lex didn't really die and all of them will act like this absolves Oliver. I would rant more about this, but I used up most of my moral outrage on the disgusting donut incident earlier.
Winslow's sitting in an interrogation room wearing orange prison togs. "I! Want! My! LAWYER!" he shouts at the empty room. He shouts some more, but the person who finally comes through the door is Tess. She approaches and sets an aluminum case on the table between them. Winslow recognizes her: "You're Oliver Queen's business partner! Sorry about trying to kill your boyfriend." Why do people keep assuming that guys are people's boyfriends on this show? Tess just looks at him. Winslow feyly puts a hand to his mouth and feigns fright: "Ooh, you're not here for revenge, are you?" Tess says it's something like that. She smiles and walks back to the door, making sure it's closed. Winslow looks suitably scared. Tess whips out a big honking gun and says, "Leave Oliver the hell alone." Then she proceeds to blow out Winslow's left kneecap. He falls to the ground, writhing in pain. Tess smirks: "Pretty please?" Winslow calls for help, but no one comes. Tess explains she and the guard have an agreement to make it look like Winslow tried to escape and Tess shot him to stop him. Winslow cries that they'll put him in solitary confinement. Tess crouches on the ground beside him and pets his arm. Solitary is just where he needs to be, she says, to spend some "quality time" with a new toy. Winslow, despite the pain, is intrigued. Tess opens the case she'd brought in and shows him. Winslow reaches in and pulls out John Corben's broken heart. "It's beautiful," Winslow breathes, the pain of his gunshot wound apparently forgotten. Tess agrees. She caresses his face and tells him, "It's a meteor rock powered heart, and you're going to tell me how it works." Toyman looks genuinely thrilled at the prospect, as does Tess.
Daily Planet, dawn. Clark is making copies when he sees Lois coming into the office. They stare at each other through a window. Sad guitar music plays. They stare some more. Lois fixes herself a cup of coffee. More staring. Clark finally sighs and approaches her: "You missed all the excitement last night." Lois wonders why she didn't read about Clark's "exploits" in the paper that morning. Clark hands her his article, with "Lois Lane and Clark Kent" in the byline. He asks her for help, saying he missed his deadline. She seems flattered, but I would be annoyed at being patronized. She agrees to help him. Clark: "Guess I'm not ready to fly solo just yet." Ugh. Lois takes the article over to her desk and marks it with her red pen. He watches for aes as she makes edits. She gives him back the article and he apologizes for letting her down. She points out that Lois Lane doesn't usually allow herself to be stood up. Clark: "Well then it's a good thing it was just like a date." More smiling and staring back and forth. Then they do that annoying "cute" thing where everyone speaks in hypotheticals that aren't really. Clark teases that he wonders how someone would get a second date after messing up like that. Lois says that "someone" should try again on a slower news day, but Clark doesn't think there are many of those. Lois agrees. "I'm sure people would make sure they got it right next time," Clark says. Smiling. Staring. "My thoughts exactly," Lois says. They smile and stare at each other for eons while the camera pans around to show them standing silhouetted against the Daily Planet logo. They'll probably still be standing there, staring at each other when next week's episode opens.
Grade: C-. The Tess scenes and some of the Toyman stuff kept it from being a D, but just barely.
Tippi Blevins is just glad no one in the episode uttered the words, "Can you read my mind?" You can send her questions and comments or just about anything else at firstname.lastname@example.org. But please... no used donuts.