Action Sammy maintains his identity-concealing mask, but allows The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes to well up a bit. He blinks, averts his gaze, shifts around uncomfortably in his seat, and leaps into the portion of this evening's entertainment from which this episode takes its title, namely the sequence that follows, in which Sam goes all Verbal Kint on Linda Blair's unsuspecting ass with the artfully ad-libbed LYING, while the audience gets to see what actually happened. "My dad and Tony Giles were old friends," he begins with a sad, thousand-yard stare of grief. Linda leans in, all compassionate. "They were in the service together -- we've known him since we were kids, you know?" Here he offers her a fond chuckle, as if remembering the good times. "So we came as soon as we heard about his death."
During all that, the camera cuts over to Dean perusing page A3 of The Baltimore Post-Intelligencer, examining an article headlined, "Man's Throat Slit Without A Trace." A trace of what? Journalistic ability? Editorial oversight? Mad headline-composing skillz? We never learn. Sam wanders over with some coffee, and we discover the boys have parked their fine selves at an outdoor cafÃ©. By the way, Dean's sucking on a pen. Just tossing that out there. Dean flips the paper over to Sam, who reads aloud, "Anthony Giles, blah, blah, blah...his throat was slit, but the room was clean, no DNA, no prints." "Keep reading," Dean urges. "It gets better." "Security cameras were unable to catch footage of the assailant," Sam obliges. Our Intrepid Heroes quickly realize that "either something happened to the tapes," "or it's an invisible killer." "My favorite kind," Dean grins, popping a finger-gun in his brother's direction. Stay away from the finger-guns, Dean. Even you aren't pretty enough to pull them off. "Like anyone is!" Raoul shrieks, sickened and repulsed. "Whaddya think, Scully?" Dean smirks. "Wanna check it out?" "I'm not Scully, you're Scully," Sam pouts, flinging the paper back at Dean. "No, I'm Mulder," Dean counters. "You're a red-headed woman." That probably shouldn't amuse me, and yet it does. At the last instant, Sam's upper lip curls up into an aggravated sneer as he silently eyes Dean rising from the table. That probably should amuse me, and yet it...actually does as well. Forget I even attempted one of those fancy parallel-yet-opposing constructions, there.
"So," Sam the LYING LIAR WHO LIES continues in the present, "it would have been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't even in town at the time." "So tell me what happened next," Linda shrugs. Is her damn character ever going to get a name tonight? "Would it matter if it does?" Raoul wonders. "Linda Blair will always be the vomitous, foul-mouthed, head-spinning nightmare of a child who captured my heart oh, so many years ago with the most brilliant and accurate portrayal of human preadolescence ever immortalized on film, so why would one fight it?" I think I hate it when Raoul has a point. Anyway, back to Sam: "That's when we went to see Karen. She was barely holding it together, and we just wanted to be there for her, you know?"