Kent kitchen. MamaKent has papers, a checkbook, a day planner, and Bo's bovine-'n-cowboy cup on the kitchen counter. These don't look at all like fun papers. It looks rainy as we rotate around and pan past the kitchen window. We settle at the kitchen door. Did someone order Magnificent Bastard for delivery? Is that like the Candygram that's actually a shark? Papa Luthor taps on the door glass. Papa sticks his head in the doorway and says that he was on his way back to Metropolis and wanted to check in and see how MamaKent was doing. "I do have a front door," MamaKent says. Dirty! "Next time I'll, uh, come to the front!" Papa Luthor says brightly as he steps inside. Ooh, "next time." This guy is smooth. MamaKent nods, trying to act annoyed as she says, "Maybe you should call first." Not so smoothly, she drops a stack of papers from the counter and onto the floor. "Eh. Let me help you," Papa Luthor says as he bends down to pick up papers, and reads, "Budget. Fiscal projections. Public works." Ooh, $25,000 Pyramid time: "Things Omar's brain can't process." Papa says those are all things a state senator would need to know about. What about bribery? Corn futures? Expensing trips to Maui? Papa asks whether MamaKent is considering taking Bo Duke's senate seat. MamaKent says she doesn't know, and that it's complicated. The seat has hinges, hydraulics, and fancy leather. With great gravity, Papa says he knows how hard it is to regain a sense of normalcy when someone you love has died. It also doesn't help when men come over through the back door to remind you about it all the time. MamaKent gulps, trying to maintain her composure. Papa Luthor tells her that it does get easier; MamaKent just has to give herself time. Howabout you give her time? All up in her grill! Back that shit up, playa! MamaKent, strangely, gives Papa Luthor a shy little look. Papa decides that his macking work here is done. He walks out without another word while MamaKent thinks. Bo's mug is deeply ashamed of MamaKent. The cream in her coffee curdles.