She is! Over to the office we fly, where Ben all but hears the call of "aaaand action!" before kicking things off exposition-style: "No! I won't accept them. They were your letters. They were written to you." Eileen (for that is her name) tells Ben that she doesn't want them around the house anymore, and Ben volleys back, "You've had them for twenty years. Why now?" She would like to ask him the same thing. He walks over and sits on the stoop in front of the fire, taking her hand and asking, "Why don't you believe me?" He tells her he's been "wrong all these years," and that he's trying to "make up for it." She sounds the "ambiguous dialogue alarm" with her response: "Sometimes making up for things only makes it worse." Is there any situation in any moment of human history, ever, when a generic line like that wouldn't be appropriate? I do think not so much. But that's just the thing about things, I guess. He stands up behind her, putting his hands in vague, strange, Jones-esque places I don't want to see because they're all so old and used, and Ben backstories with that script doctoring device of "The Magic 8-Ball. No, no, not that one. The other one. The broken one" when he continues, "I haven't held you since that night. I want to hold you. I want to go back." Eileen, For That Is Her Name, tweaks out just in time and throws his arms off of her. Just then, Audrey and her new best friend and detective gal pal Donna show up behind the wall and remove the panel that spies into Ben's office. This must be the cue for them to start talking about Donna. Ben asks, "Have you told her?" Eileen, loudly enough for Donna to understand, screams, "God, no. Never. I never will. And you must promise me the same. You mustn't come over again. You must stay away from her." And she's 0-60 in no seconds flat, off without another word. Behind the panel, Audrey asks, "What the hell was that all about?" Donna doesn't know, but she looks away, practically into the camera, and tells the world, "But I'm gonna find out." And Donna's relevance as a character competes with her declining skin suit that's supposed to contain her internal organs without us being able to actually see them for which one is going to succeed in wasting away to absolutely nothing.
Double R. Cole, Cooper, and Truman enter, Cole ratcheting the decibel level up to "desperate for laughs" in shrieking, "Harry, the best cure I ever came across for a hangover was raw meat! And plenty of it!" Harry makes right for the bathroom, and Cole and Cooper exchange devious grins. Okay, frat boys of the federal government -- now you're just being mean. Cole and Cooper take off their overcoats, and we're meant to notice that Cooper is back to his men-in-black ensemble. Cole and Cooper offer each other more thumbs up, as the F.B.I. starts to look like the most fun place to work in D.C. ever. Seated at the booth, Cole looks behind the counter and spots Shelley, asking apropos of nothing, "Holy smokes, who is that?" Cooper replies that it's "Shelley Johnson." What's on second. They don't know who's on third. He can't hear, and WE GET IT. But he asks again, and Cooper is forced to scream her name, causing her to look over and wave wanly. Cole thinks she's hot, and asks Cooper to wish him good luck while he goes over and moves in for the kill. Oh, Lord. He's old enough to be her failed television series director. Approaching, he bellows (I might have used that word already, but I'm on the ropes for another synonym for "talked loudly" here), "Hello!" Shelley, startled, almost drops a cup, but it's all very subtle and have I mentioned that I love her? Cole, undaunted, continues on, "I was wondering if I might trouble you for a cup of strong, black coffee. And in the process, engage you in an anecdote of no small amusement." Except he calls it an "antecdote," because, y'know, quirky. Shelley looks over at Cooper in no small amount of horror, but he gives her an "a-okay sign" and Shelley shoots back, "You don't have to shout. I can hear you." But lo, Cole can hear her perfectly. "For some weird reason, I can hear you clear as a bell." It's a miracle. And dreams are made of emotion.