In Philadelphia, Scully looks closely at Ed Jerse's business card.
Speaking of poor, troubled, hot Ed Jerse, he's sitting all alone in the dark, talking to his psychotic tattoo. Jodie thinks it's much nicer when it's just the two of them, all alone. Nothing better than quality time with your crazy talking tat, I always say. "Women are so petty," Jodie continues. "Jealous. Controlling. That bitch today would have been just like all the others." Speak of the devil! The phone rings. Ed looks up wearily and answers it, sounding a bit down in the mouth. It's that bitch from today. "It's Dana," she identifies herself. "We met today. My flight was cancelled because of the storm. I was just wondering if I could take you up on dinner." Ed smiles. He thinks it'd be worth fighting a little snow. But he'll have to meet her, because his car is in the shop, he says. This "Dana" person offers to pick him up. He asks her to give him an hour. They're on! He hangs up. "Go ahead. Treat yourself. This girl is a real doll," Jodie says. "But beauty's only skin deep, baby. I go all the way to the bone." Ed looks down at is arm and digs his lit cig right into Jodie's pretty painted face. Sadly, this is not accompanied by a little tiny scream of pain.
Scully shows up at Ed's Super Fun House. Walking in the foyer, she sees the Jehovah's Witnesses knocking on the Poor Dead Downstairs Neighbor's door. Knocking and knocking. "She said she'd be here," the dude says to the chick. The chick just shakes her head. Scully shrugs and goes upstairs. That is one creepy apartment building, by the way. It's practically a tenement. There's no way I could go out with a guy who lived in such a creepy building. Of course, I'm very picky. I once broke up with a boy because he didn't have a TV. Okay, that wasn't very picky. Um, I once broke up with someone because he had a picture of Rush Limbaugh over his bed. Hmm, that's not really all that picky either. Just take my word for it. So, Scully raps sharply on Ed's door. He answers it in a state of partial undress. "I'm early. The storm's not so bad," Scully explains. He grins and invites her inside. "I'll be ready in a second," he promises. He closes the door and grins at her. "At least we can forego the 'what a nice place you have' formalities," he says. She smiles. Scully looks extremely purty here, by the way. She casts her eyes around Ed's gloomy digs and admits that she doesn't go out very much. "I think the last time I went on a date was to see Glengarry Glen Ross, and the characters in the movie had a much better time," she says. Ed smiles at her, fiddling with his tie. Scully notices a spot of blood on his white dress shirt. "Ed, you're bleeding," she says. He looks at his arm, then tells her it's just the damn tattoo. "I'm a doctor. Do you want me to take a look at it?" Scully asks. Ed bustles into the bathroom, refusing and muttering that Jodie's been nothing but trouble. While he dabs at Jodie with a towel, Scully snoops, finding the burned picture of Ed and the kids propped against his laptop. She examines it sympathetically. Ed walks back out, buttoning his dress shirt. "I hope you like this place; I made reservations," he says, then looks up in time to see Scully put the photo back on the table. He looks a wee bit uncomfortable. Ed? When you've got a girl coming over, hide all evidence of the fact that you're a bit...troubled. At least on the first date. All the pictures with your head burned out, and the ones where you've scrawled "loser" on your face with Sharpie, or the ones where you've pasted a picture of Christy Turlington in next to you -- those all need to get shoved in the bottom drawer of your desk for the time being. "Ed, the, uh, the crummy bar you told me about? Take me there," Scully says.