Cross-town Train Of Unrequited Do-Gooder Lust. Syd's telling her sob stories to Agent Apathy as the scenery rumbles past. "I just wanted to rip his finger right off again," she says as Vaughn sort of laughs. "Does that make me a bad person?" No, Syd, it makes you Vaughn's girrrrrlfriend. Hee. He lurves her the most. Vaughn tells her that it doesn't make her a bad person, but it might have blown her cover. "Ya think?" smiles Syd. Vaughn goes on to say that she just has to tag Dahlgren in Vegas and, when SD-6 gets more info on the K-Directorate meeting, they'll move on from there. Syd wants to know if The Weasel ever reported Vaughn. Blah blah blah, yes he did, bleah bleah bleah, Vaughn only got a slap on the wrist, flim flam flooey, hey, why's Syd rubbing her cheek?
"You okay?" asks Vaughn. "It's nothing," says Syd. "I'm just a little bruised." "You can't really tell," says Vaughn. "Oh, it's because I'm wearing, like, a POUND of cover-up," says Syd. Shout-out. TOTAL shout-out. We've been saying on the boards for WEEKS that Syd gets herself into all sorts of serious combat situations and yet never shows a single cut or bruise. Methinks Big Brother is listening. Hey, Mr. Abrams? While we have your attention, could you also do something about Willage Idiot's hair? It's been a problem for me since day one. Oh, and stop making Willage so lame and irritating, okay? Thanks. Oh, and any time you need a pinch-hitter, just let me know. I'm still unemployed, you know. And I wouldn't mind relocating to L.A., either. Not at all.
Back at the Spy Cave, Spy Daddy informs Syd that she and Dixon should be ready to leave for Vegas by the end of the day. Syd says that's cool, she just has to swing by school. And here's where the ridiculous subplot that is Sydney's ongoing grad school education rears its ugly head. Spy Daddy tries his hand at acting fatherly by asking her how the school thing is going. Syd says it's going well but she's actually thinking of dropping the whole thing. I wish. Dumbest. Subplot. Ever. Basically, now that Syd knows her mother wasn't actually a literature professor, her dream of following in her mother's footsteps isn't so enticing anymore. What. Ever. Phase this storyline out already. God. I mean, the scene's sort of sweet, and both Garber and Garner do a great job of sort of trying to reconnect as father and daughter but -- please. Leave grad school. Like we care. We don't watch this show to find out whether or not Syd gets an A on her thesis or anything. We watch it for the butt-kicking and good acting and crazy outfits. GET ON WITH IT.
Center For Music From The Womb. Syd's gathering up her luggage for the Vegas trip as someone knocks at the door. It's Willage, just dropping by to borrow one of Syd's many tape recorders. As they're looking at the tape recorders, Syd notices what appears to be a hickey on Willage's neck. Ew. Does anyone actually give hickeys anymore? I mean, I used to give them to myself. WHEN I WAS IN THE THIRD GRADE. You know, when you used to suck on your forearm and bring up that little blood mark? Oh, shut up. You know you did it. But, like, have you ever actually RECEIVED one once you became a sexually active adult? Like, if someone even started to give me a hickey, I'd be beating them over the head with my Riverside Shakespeare. Gah. And ew.