We're outdoors at night with children running around. The Blooms are working a wedding. Samantha figures they might get out of there early. Steven looks longingly over at the newlywed couple on the dance floor. Is that Chan and Finklestein? These two are so enigmatic. I want to know more about Chan and Finklestein. J.J. Abrams, you tease! Will they hyphenate? I have to know! The Undercovers look on and ponder when was the last time they danced together. They danced the whole night at their wedding at which Leo Nash was in attendance, apparently drunk the whole night. Undercover banter ensues -- Sam: "Remember Leo that night?" Steven: "Drunk with sunglasses on?" Sam: "Half the night." Steven: "Well sunglasses half the night, drunk the whole night." Sam: "...That toast he gave." Steven: "Still don't understand it." Sam: "It was sweet." Steven: "It was rambling. Erratic. Just completely ridiculous." Sam: "A lot like Leo." I'm dizzy. This is going to happen a lot, isn't it?
At home in the terribly mundane house of The Undercovers, the two get ready for bed. Sam's indulging in some peanut butter straight out of the jar while Steven brushes his teeth, pausing for a moment of self-reflection in the mirror. Get it? Mirror? You're too young. They hop into bed together. Steven rolls over to spoon Sam and asks if she feels like it. You know... it. Samantha does, but has to decline tonight, citing exhaustion. They agree to make a go of it tomorrow night and roll over to face opposite directions. I dig how realistically this all went down. Guy wants it. Girl says no. OK, bye! We have a shot of each partner's face as they ponder their stagnation and standing offer of secret agent intrigue. The only thing that could lay this on any thicker would be if they had True Lies playing on the TV in the background. Espionage saves marriages.