At last, our heroine arrives at Mode, this time with an enthusiastic, "Ta-DAH!" Amanda and Marc -- in his street clothes -- just stare at her. "Let me guess: when you got on the elevator downstairs, you were a caterpillar," Marc drawls. Betty wonders where their costumes are, but it seems that our little girl is catching on to the ways of Mode: "What about the email you sent me about the Mode costume contest...which...was...obviously sent only to me. Right. Well then, I guess this means I win!" she says, smiles brightly, and walks off. That girl has what my mother would call "a good attitude." Although I would argue that, in her formal shorts and mini-necktie, Amanda could be in costume as Fergie. If she pees her pants, we'll know for sure.
So Betty heads off to her desk, and there's this brilliant moment where she gets to her cube, and Daniel, whoâs coming out of his office fastening his watch, gets a load of her outfit. The expression on his face is priceless. Picture abject horror combined with total shock that things could get any worse. He actually blinks and shakes his head and stammers -- the whole Hugh-Grant-style nine yards -- before managing to tell her that he needs her to find his watch. Betty, of course, points out that he's wearing it. He clarifies that he means his other watch: "I'm pretty sure I left it at some woman's apartment last week. I need it for the ball tonight." Betty agrees to track it down -- she just needs to know which woman it was. But Daniel, of course, can't remember. Betty raises her brows at the idea that he can't remember who he slipped it to just last week. "I remember who I slept with, and don't give me the look," Daniel defends himself. "What look?" she asks. "That look. The All Judging Butterfly," he says, handing her a sheet of paper, explaining that not ONLY does he remember who he boned, he even has some of their numbers! "Although you'll have to match up the names with the nights of the week. I'm kinda fuzzy on that part." Ooh, it's like a puzzle! "Is this the look?" Betty asks, giving it to him again. Daniel weakly protests that he had a crazy week! Does she remember what she had for lunch on Tuesday? "Spinach pie. The cafeteria was celebrating Greek day. It was good," Betty retorts. I would remember the spinach pie, too, but mostly because I would have been on the lookout for a deadly case of E.coli for the rest of the week. Daniel sighs, and asks the heavens why this has to be such a problem; he's an adult, the women are adults ("I checked!"), no one is getting hurt, etcetera. "I can sleep with a different woman every night of the week. Why not?" he asks. In response to this, Betty notes that the Romans had a nine day week. "You would be a really tired Centurion," she says. Daniel just wants her to find his watch, and, with that, leaves the office for the rest of the morning. Apparently, he has "an appointment."