Alex fusses with a door, then calls for Joe to come help her because the damn thing is stuck. When Joe bends over and successfully heaves it shut, a pot of flour dumps its fluffy cargo all over the noggin that he wasn't using. Everyone laughs. Joe silently offers a retaliatory challenge -- he gets a fireman's overalls and invites Alex to step into the boots. She does so, and Joe and two others pull up the overalls and hang her on a coathook. The gang leaves, laughing, and Alex is left alone to sway.
Carlos casually asks Bosco if he has extra flashlight batteries. Bosco snaps at him, freaked and trying to avoid any discussion of impending darkness. Meanwhile, Doc's trembling hand grabs at his tummy. Knowing Carlos, he probably told Doc it was just bad indigestion, and damn he left the Tums tablets in the ambulance. He breathes funny and looks mournfully at Faith, who is quiet but quaking inside.
The XFL has arrived, everyone. And if you're wondering what that is you're feeling, it's probably "total indifference," or even "disinterest."
Roaming around the catacombs, Carlos and Bosco clap to scare away the rats. "There's seven million rats in this city," Bosco grumbles. "We're outnumbered eight to one." What is that -- new math? Maybe Bosco's just deep and he realizes he is not one. He is 875,000. Unfortunately, none of his several-hundred-thousand facets can figure out where the hell he and Carlos are. They bicker and Bosco runs off, insisting he is right.
It's 9:06 PM, and it's the hour of soul-searching. "What's it like having kids?" Doc croaks to Faith. She looks at him in disbelief. Her uterus shudders. Doc explains he always wanted to be a father, and that not achieving that is his biggest regret in life. Faith is visibly uncomfortable with this morbidity, but Doc persists in asking about her regrets. "Shooting at that door," Faith grumbles. She then tries to brush off the topic, saying she never thinks that way because "your life's your life." God, Faith looks really resigned and burned-out when she says that. Molly Price is quite underrated. She's playing worried, annoyed, impatient and tired, maternal yet brusque. All wrapped up into one Yokas. "I think my chocolate wore off," she grins, shuddering at every little noise. "You could always eat Bosco," offers Doc. "Thanks, Hannibal, but I think enough other women have been there," Faith doesn't say, but should. Doc breaks the silence by groaning and screaming in pain. "Bosco's like a bulldog," Faith says. "He'll find a way out." She stares at Doc, increasingly agitated, while he nods weakly and breathes in labored style.