Episode Report Card Erin: C | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Careless Memories
By Erin | Season 2 | Episode 3 | Aired on 10.12.2002
Dr. Nancy just smirks at him. "Well, I'm sorry," she says, "but I am not in the habit of helping a father manipulate his daughter. No matter how good his intentions may be." Ooooh. Dr. Nancy's gettin' feisty! "I see," fumes Jack, barely containing his smothered anger. "And is your opinion here based on what's best for Sydney or for the agency? Because, the fact is, if Sydney doesn't talk to Laura, the CIA learns nothing." Dr. Nancy's ears perk up. "So," she says, "you still think of her as 'Laura'? Even though that was her alias?" Faithful viewers, as well as psychiatrists, all over the world collectively tap their fingers against their lips and go, "Hmmmm..."
Mama Hari's Den Of Delights. Once again, Syd makes the long trek down the hall to Irina's sparsely stylish cell. Mama Hari (tm Souris) is practicing a little yoga with her back to the glass, silently sitting on her haunches in the center of the room, deep in concentration. As soon as she hears Sydney enter, Irina opens her eyes and tells Syd (how she knows it's her daughter is a mystery to me -- she's probably psychic on top of being a cold-blooded killer) that she's practicing a form of meditation that offers all the benefits of sleep in a fraction of the time. Yeah, I tried to listen to find out what it was because A) I could totally use something like that and B) that's just how weird I am. I even looked it up on Google. What'd I look up? "Different Forms Meditation Sleep," if you must know. Remember what I said about being disturbed? Yeah. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Mama Hari turns and tells Syd she could teach her this meditation. Syd clips off that Irina's supposed to address her as "Agent Bristow" and nothing else. "Not even 'Pookie'?" says Irina coquettishly. "Especially not 'Pookie,'" snaps Syd. "Now what in the HELL is Sark looking for with that camera?" Irina doesn't answer. Instead, she stands up, showing off her wickedly toned biceps and shoulders, and walks over to the glass. "Do you remember when you were six years old?" she husks. "I sent you to piano lessons. Your teacher was Ms. Adams?" "We are not having this conversation," says Syd, trying to maintain her composure. "You asked me a question, I'm giving you an answer," barks Mama Hari. "Do you remember the first thing Ms. Adams taught you about music?" "She said, 'Music is like math. If you can count, you can play,'" says Syd, proving that she had the retention of a rocket scientist even at the tender age of six. Seriously. Do you remember anything your first-grade teacher said to you? I mean, other than "Sit DOWN and SHUT UP! And stop hitting Mary Margaret! Patrick O'Leary! If you don't take that pencil out of your nose RIGHT NOW --" Christ. I can't remember my first-grade teacher's name, let alone anything she SAID.
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