Flora is on the phone, giggling. She's leaving a message for Louis as Mitchell sits like twenty feet away. "I miiiss you! Hugs and kisses." Then Mitchell says, "Honey, can I use the phone, I have to call the girl I'm banging up in Boston." No, he doesn't, but he's thinking it. In a sit-down, Flora explains, "I didn't lie to him. Lying is lying. Not saying is not saying." I hate Flora. Cyn says, "I almost admire the girl," then adds, "You're trying to convince yourself." Flora says, "When you believe yourself, other people believe you." Sarah says, "So you're Madonna, and I believe you!" Hee hee. That Garbage song plays as Mitchell and Flora walk the streets of Miami hand in hand. "I'm only happy when it rains!" And it's raining. Louis drives by in his jeep and totally sees them. Flora drops Mitchell's hand and says, "That was my boss, mmm!" Could she act any more busted?
Flora says, "When I get caught, I think they are both gonna dump my ass." Actually, it's your ass they're most interested in. That's been proven. But let me go get my tiny violin anyway, you poor, poor, two-timing thing. On the phone, Louis says he saw Flora making out with a guy. She totally denies it, all, "Oh, you did, really, mm-hmm, yeah, whatever." Then Louis said he didn't see it and that his homies did and told him about it, but if he didn't see it, it didn't matter and that he's sorry he brought it up. Appeased, Flora gets mushy. "I miiiiss yooou!" Oh, gawd.
Mike picks up Joe at the airport, back from giant-banging. Joe says he's all refreshed now and ready to work on the business. Ha ha! No one did anything, except for Sarah, who ate bagels in the name of research. Sarah tells Joe that no one else wanted to do anything with her, and that "it kind of sucked." Way to spell it out. Joe says, "If we blow this opportunity, it's gonna stink." Well, prepare to stink up the place, people.
Flora rushes to get Mitchell to the airport on time. Rush, rush, rush. Oh shit, they miss the plane. So they sit around and wait for another flight and -- gak -- snuggle. Flora says charmingly, "Don't let any bimbos touch my photos. If bimbos touch them, may their hands fall off." These kids really have something special. Smoochie smoochies! Finally Mitchell gets on a plane and Flora runs off at top speed to find Louis.
Flora asks, "Did you miss me?" Was there time enough? They were apart for, like, three days. Louis asks how the visit with her boyfriend went, and she yelps, "Ex!" RIGHT. Louis says, "I can't be dating someone who's dating someone else." Oh, can't you be? Flora says, "I'm not!" Yes, you are. Are too. Are too infinity. Louis continues his schtick, saying, "Call me old-fashioned." Yeah, we can all tell you're the marryin' kind. How can he look her in the face and not point out all the whiskerburn all over her chin? It's like Mitchell attacked her with his stubble on purpose. It looks like a punishment. It's worse than having monster zits. Louis continues his unbelievable blather, saying he wants her to "open up and tell me about Flora." Well, I flirt to get what I want, I think too much smiling is bad for the soul, and plan to sleep with two guys in less than twenty-four hours. How's that for starters? Flora says, and this should get embroidered on a pillow toute suite, "Flora is loco." Uh. Doy. Louis says he knows that. We ALL know that; our eyes and ears work perfectly well. Then we hear, "Flora didn't lie to Louis." YES YOU DID! Did did did. Did infinity. Louis gets all "The More You Know"-y and says, "If you lie to me it wouldn't really bother me as much as if you lie to yourself. There's a lot of room for growth in you." Hell yeah, dude, and WORD. They continue to stroll leisurely on the beach. Louis asks, "Why are we holding hands?" Flora simpers, "'Cause I like you. Don't I make you happy?" Louis gets a "spare me" look on his face and says, "You make me laugh, at you." Good answer! Flora says, "Okay," adding, "Let's go home." To Louis's house. So they can do it. Louis laughs and they stroll off into the sunset together. Oh, gross. Gross gross gross. Gross infinity.