Night sky again with that infernal "tribal" music. More sirens. The cops are just now bringing those pesky prep-school kids into the station. They seem okay given that they got their asses kicked. The camera does an incredibly slow pan around the busy station until it finds Sam, who's sitting by the pouting Jane. Nobody is even slightly wet, by the way. Sam says that they can just "do this" tomorrow. Jane sniffs and says she wants to get this over with. It's how I felt about this recap. Man, I've been writing this forever! Sam recaps Jane's evening, from when she left the victim to search for the suspects. He asks Jane if she saw Michael at any point tonight. Jane says she didn't. Michael asks if there's anyone who could have done this to him. Jane lies again: "No," she says. Sam looks around and slams a piece of paper on his desk. "You listen to me," he says. "Mike was my friend. And I loved him too. And I swear to you I'm gonna find out who did this. And I don't care what rules or regulations or procedures I have to break to do it. I'm gonna do it. And when I do find them, huh. I promise." Okay. First of all, how do they know that he was thrown from the roof? And secondly, didn't they look on the roof to find out that there were shells from his gun all over the place? Where is Michael's gun, anyway? Can't they run it for prints? Has anyone even bothered actually investigating this mess? Because I think the kids saw Tarzan, and saw Michael shooting at Tarzan and then chasing after Tarzan. Oh, whatever. Blink, blink, blink. Jane doesn't seem too upset that she's lying to her partner and creating more work for the NYPD when they could be solving actual cases. Jane sniffs, which sparks off the Bad Closing Song of the Week. And, once again, she wanders over to a window, so that she can look out into the night. Blink, blink.
Shot of rain hitting a window. Tarzan appears. FINALLY, he's shirtless. And in a ponytail. He also stares out the window, at the same rain Jane's watching!
Jane blinks. Blinks. Blinks. The music is horrible.
Tarzan walks backward from the window. We can see that his arm is bandaged up. He sits against the bed, pouting, his knees obstructing our view of his chest. Tarzan pouts. Pouts. Pouts. Fade to black. Whoa. This does not bode well, friends.
Next week it looks like exactly the same shit happens: Sam's close to solving a case (something about a wild man with long hair and no shoes!), Clayton tries to find Tarzan, glass breaks, Tarzan leaps, rain falls, and Jane doesn't know what she's supposed to do. Take off your shirt, Tarzan! God! It's so simple! That's all you have to do! Please! Man.