...which happens to be a coffee shop, where a pleasant-looking brunette pours Our Dear Boys a couple of cups of joe as she exposits, "You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do." "'They'?" Sammy repeats, confused. "You're debt collectors, right?" the hostess, "Tracy," guesses. The camera cuts back to find Sam and Dean looking fine in a pair of suits and ties. "Once in a while, they come by," Tracy explains. "I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back." "Actually, we're lawyers," Dean LIES, "representing his great-aunt Lita," as in Ford, which: Kick ass. "She passed, God rest her soul," Dean continues, "and left Andy a sizable estate." "Are you a friend of his?" Sam wonders, playing along with the LIE. Tracy used to be, but she doesn't see much of him anymore. Just then, some hyperactive busboy drops himself into a seat at Sam and Dean's table to opine enthusiastically, "Andy kicks ass, man! Andy can get you into anything -- he even got me backstage at Aerosmith once. It was beautiful, bro." "'Bro'?" sniffs Raoul. "I despise this douchebag already. Begone with him!" Tracy rolls her eyes and sends this "Webber" person back to work before informing the boys, "If you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for the van with the barbarian queen painted on the side." "Barbarian queen?" Dean snorts. "She's riding a polar bear," Tracy smirks with a couple of "Can you believe that crap?" eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. "It's kind of hard to miss."