Despite my misgivings, we cut away from the apartment proper to join Dean and Jo on one of the upper floors as they wave their EMF readers around in the air. They're also quite the little multitaskers, apparently, as they manage to snipe their way through a bickering argument as well. Long story short, Jo knows she's the chronically lonely and hideously unsanitary spirit's type, and so intends to deploy herself as bait to draw the monster out. Dean is shocked and appalled and clutches at his nonexistent pearls while wondering what her poor mother would do if ever she learned of such folly. Well, for starters, she'd rip you a new one, Deano, but I believe we've already established that, and besides, you're going to find out what her poor mother would do in about a half an hour, so let's keep this moving, shall we? After far too much of all this, Jo finally plants herself in the middle of the hall and peeves, "You know, I have had it up to here with your crap." Dean's all, "'Scuse me?" so Jo elaborates, "Your chauvinist crap. You think women can't do the job!" "Sweetheart," he condescends with heaping amounts of quite deliberate chauvinism, "this ain't Gender Studies -- women can do the job fine. Amateurs can't." The debate continues in this vein until Dean finally lays his perspective on this whole misbegotten mission on the line for her: "You got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young, I wish I could do something else." "You love the job!" Jo insists. "Yeah," Dean agrees, "but I'm a little twisted." "You don't think I'm a little twisted, too?" she challenges with a friendly enough twinkle in her eye. Dean bites the lower ducky lip. Heh. Dean speechifies about Family and whatnot before finally cranking up his EMF reader and stalking away from her. Jo lets it all drop for the moment, because this episode has been almost terminally boring up to this point, and we desperately need to get in a little of the spooky Monstercam at this juncture before the entire audience lapses into a coma.
Monstercam provides us with a low-angle, through-the-heating-vent view of Our Imperiled Duo traipsing down the hallway with their silly EMF readers hoisted high in the air. Dean books right and disappears, but Jo lingers, detecting something suspicious right there above the grate. The camera, which had rejoined Jo in the hall, now quickly pans down from her quizzical face to land on a set of blackened, almost visibly decaying fingers reaching through the grate's openings. Jo, more sensing something troubling with her mind than detecting something troubling with her reader, sucks in a sharp intake of breath and wheels around to find...an empty grate! D'OH! "What?" Dean snaps from the far end of the next hall. "I'm not sure," Jo admits, clearly freaked. "You smell that?" Dean wonders, sniffing around in the air. Jo supposes it's a gas leak, but Dean's encountered the scent before and knows it's not gas, though he can't quite put his finger on what it is exactly at the moment. Jo finally kneels down at the grate, and her EMF reader goes apeshit. "Mazeltov!" Dean smirks. "You just found your first spirit." "Far be it from me to suggest certain people avoid various idiomatic expressions," Raoul delicately begins, "but Yiddishisms like 'Mazeltov' should never issue from that farkakte shaygetz's mouth again! Goyische putz." Dean gets all handy with a screwdriver and soon yanks the grate from the wall. They peer around the vent's interior for a bit with a flashlight until Dean -- get this -- blindly shoves his entire arm into the void despite the fact that they know danger lurks within the gloom. Dean's a complete idiot sometimes. Anyway, Dean's fingers close around something, and he gently withdraws his -- fortunately for him, still-intact -- arm out of the vent to show us all a lock of blonde hair. With a big, chunky slab of scalp still hanging off the end of it! "Eeeeeeew!" shrieks Raoul, delightedly grossed out. "Someone's keeping souvenirs," Dean realizes, choking back bile.