Down on the studio floor, Cal's got his head in his hands as Bevo rolls up with a coyote in a cage. The coyote's name is "Yote," by the way. Which, if you think about it, is like naming your kid "Uman Being." Anyway, I still hate this whole stupid subplot, so long story short: they're sending in Yote to get the ferret, who went in to get the snake, and this all needs to get cleared up by the time the cast returns from the dinner so that they can rehearse tonight. Bevo gets a call from Snake Central, and he tells Cal that, while he forgot to notify "American Humane" when he left home base with Yote, Snake Central did so for him. Cal says that this means a rep from AmHum (go with it) will have to come on site to observe their little dog and pony (and ferret and coyote) show. Cal would rather have avoided that, considering that he's violated so many regulations already.

Back at the dinner, Tom watches Kim down her fifth shot of tequila, commenting, "That would be a lot if you were José Cuervo." She keeps flirting with him and trying to undress him with her rapidly-drooping eyes. After unsuccessfully begging her to at least eat something, Tom decides instead to come completely clean: he tells her that Jack needs Tom to convince Kim to give up comedy and stick with the viola. He takes the pragmatic approach and reasons that -- if only for a week -- if she told her dad that she was going back to the viola and pretended everything was fine: "If you could be Daddy's little girl for one more--" It's at this point that Kim passes out on the table. "It was probably the tequila," observes Simon -- who, in my expert opinion, is a little too old to be enjoying this as much as he is. Tom panics and says that they need to get her back to her hotel, though he has no idea where she's staying. Simon says that Jack would know, so Tom sets off to find Jack, "who will kill [Tom] with his thumbs." Tom tells Simon to walk Kim over to a "private secluded area" and to make it look like they're just walking together, rather than that Kim is being dragged off unconscious. Seriously, Simon, the last thing this situation needs is Nancy Grace and Greta Van Susteren all up in your business.

Outside, Harriet's on the phone with someone-or-other, wondering where Jordan is. She hangs up in time for Matt to approach with an accusation about the Darren Wells baseball bat incident, wondering if that's the same kind of passive-aggressive crap Harriet's giving him hell for. Harriet begins to apologize for it -- "to the extent that I was responsible" -- but Matt's having none of that. He yells at Harriet about "accountability," and she fires back that she was hurt by the Jeannie thing. Matt tries to change the subject, but Harriet won't have it: "You went out with my friend." Matt bites off that Harriet doesn't get to be "the star of every show," and that he didn't go out with Jeannie because she was Harriet's friend; he went out with her because she was his friend: "But let me ask you, if this is the subject: I never proposed to you." "Yes," says Harriet. "That's the subject." Whatever, I'm checking out of this whole argument. Allowing tensions that have built up over half a season to boil over is one thing. Now it's because Matt never asker Harriet to marry him? Sorry. Matt is annoyed and says that if they could have ever gone so much as six months without an "eruption" like this, they'd have been picking out preschools by now. Harriet looks half-furious and half-sad and says, "That's the worst lie you've ever told." The Catholics in Media woman approaches and says that it's almost time for Matt to present Harriet with her award. Has he come up with anything to say? "He'll be fine," says Harriet, choked up. "He's good on his feet."