Episode Report Card Sobell: B- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT A Girl Named Disaster
By Sobell | Season 3 | Episode 9 | Aired on 01.13.2008
Back in the prison, Mahone is heading into the early stages of withdrawal. Naturally, this is when T-Bag heads over, perhaps looking for backup singers during the all-prisoner version of "Greased Lightning." Or maybe he wants to put Mahone further in his debt so he can set up a deathmatch with Sammy. With T-Bag, it could go either way. ...Ah, it's going the "I need a favor" route. T-Bag sums it up with "It involves you, a chicken foot and a man who's got it coming." Mahone asks which man, and T-Bag says, "Sammy. Now you get well, you get out in the ring and you do that [makes neck-snapping gesture] neck thing? In exchange, I'm going to cover alllllll your medical expenses." Mahone doesn't say anything. T-Bag coos that he's heading off to grab his merchandise, and leans over to whisper, "You're the best cock in the fight, Alex. Don't let me down." Oh, to have been a fly on the wall when that line trotted past the network censors. We get a tight close-up of Mahone, who looks like he's concentrating hard on something...
...And then we cut to Whistler being strapped in the chair. As Zavala threads the hose behind him, he comments, "Maybe now you'll feel more comfortable telling me the truth." I can't help but feel that this set-up is going to be used to justify some of the heinous things people are doing in Americans' names overseas, i.e. See, the committed crusader for truth and justice must use dark tactics to serve a greater good! Those people who are getting tortured deserve it! But what do I know? I'm only getting squeamish over how a deplorable practice has devolved from a matter of national debate into a plot device on a FOX network show. ["'Another Fox network show,' I think you meant to say." -- Sars] Whistler's even more squeamish than I am -- the minute the chair rocks back, he screams that he's working with Scofield, but there's nobody else involved.
Within seconds, Whistler's out of the chair and Zavala's marched him into the anteroom where Michael's been waiting. Zavala says, "As they say in America, we're going to get this story straight." Michael tells Whistler, "I told him the truth." Whistler gives him a look like, Well, GOOD GOING, stupid! Zavala is worked up because Whistler's not confirmed anything. Michael pipes up, "Ask him about that woman he's been meeting with." Whistler glares at Michael like hot death before saying, "It's not what you think." Michael counters with the Blue Steel before saying, "It doesn't matter what I think. It matters what you know, and you know her name. [turns to Zavala] And the fact that he won't admit it tells me he's no innocent bystander in this." Whistler protests that he is, and Michael snits, "Prove it, because that's the only way we're getting out of here." Whistler says, "Michael, this is suicide. They'll kill Sofia. And they'll kill your brother's son." Michael replies, "This is the man who can help us, and he can't do anything without a name, so TELL HIM." Yeah, there was yelling at the end there. Yeah, it was a little bit of all right. After a few more seconds, Whistler finally says, "Gretchen Morgan." Then he sits down next to Michael on the bench. That will be one awkward little waiting room.
We cut to Susan B. in the usual hotel bar. She slinks right up next to Sucre, cocks her head at the drink, and purrs to the bartender, "Two more of those, please." Sucre leaps off his stool like it's just sprouted spikes and makes noise about going. Susan B. smoothly tells the bartender, "He'll stay." She turns to Sucre and says, "Relax...Fernando, is it?" She wants to talk with him alone. Sucre indicates the well-populated bar and says, "This right here is as alone as we're gonna get." Susan B. gossips, "I heard about your argument with Lincoln," and Sucre snorts dryly, "You people are everywhere, huh?" Susan does not bother to dispute that, and continues, "You know him better than I do, but from personal experience I know, Burrows can be hard to handle. That man does not like to be told what to do." Sucre says darkly, "He sure likes bossing everyone else around." As the love theme begins playing in the background (o, those atmospheric guitar strings), Susan B. tells Sucre he needs to watch out for Sucre. She's happy to help that happen, so long as Sucre keeps a close eye on Linc. Susan B. reasons, "Lincoln causes as many problems as he solves. He needs to get out of his own way, and I think you can assist him. I stay one step ahead, and you get fifty grand." I can only imagine the outrage from dedicated Dominic Purcell fans who would be happy to keep nonstop tabs on the man for free. Sucre thinks it over for approximately three seconds before agreeing.