Episode Report Card Demian: C- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT It's Just Another Menstrual Monday
By Demian | Season 7 | Episode 6 | Aired on 10.16.2004
Straight Estates. Raging heterosexual Kerr Smith peers through the blinds of his apartment to find Raige conspicuously parked across the street in her Volkswagen. She's wearing an immense pair of black Jackie O sunglasses to lessen the chances she'll be recognized, because she is deeply, profoundly retarded. Kerr Smith giggles to himself in an entirely heterosexual manner as he edges away from the window to retrieve his keys. He's casually dressed, by the way, but strapped into his shoulder holster nonetheless with his little FBI badge attached to the belt loop of his jeans. I can't stand myself for thinking this, but damn. He still works a pair of jeans like few outrageously heterosexual gentlemen on TV can. He presently emerges onto the front stoop of his apartment building and, studiously ignoring Raige's presence, heads off down the sidewalk. Raige Matthews, Profound Retard slumps down all of two inches in her car's front seat and orbs out -- like that's not going to be noticed by the hundreds of passersby here on Breeder Boulevard -- only to rematerialize in Kerr Smith's rather spartan apartment. "Definitely a bachelor," she notes as she removes her sunglasses to pick her way across the floor. Well, no, Raige, not necessarily. The apartment's lack of homey touches could be due to the fact that its occupant is, you know, a Washington-based federal agent who intends to leave town as soon as he concludes his investigation. You dumbass.
Just then, Kerr throws open the door and yells, "Hey!" Raige spins around, orbing in place as she does so. Busted! "Whoa," Kerr Keanus. "Guess the secret's out," Raige guhs in what would be a bit of metacommentary were Kerr Smith not the strapping heterosexual he oh, so clearly is. And shut up, Raige. Your fucking secret's been out for two freaking weeks already. He knows. You all know he knows. Knock it off with this coy bullshit already. "Can you do that whenever you want to?" Kerr asks, referring to the orbing. Raige confirms this, and frets that Piper'll kill her when she finds out she blew their nonexistent cover. Kerr politely promises not to tell before easing the door shut behind him to get on with the important part of the scene. He correctly guesses that the Glamorous Ladies doubt his credentials and are, in fact, wondering if he's demonic, so he suggests Raige sample his blood using various implements from a handy forensics kit he just happens to have open on his kitchen counter. Raige retrieves a small vial and some sharp piece of metal before looking up at him and eyebrowing, "May I?" "You may," he sort of smirks, and the flirtatious undertones are quite in evidence throughout this and their subsequent scenes together. I can't say I disapprove, not only because they share a certain amount of chemistry that was entirely lacking between, say, Phoebe and Chronic, and Phoebe and Sparklies, and Raige herself and Slampiece Buttfuck, but also because they're painfully attractive together. And I suppose it helps that the shot of Raige pricking his index finger to gather a few drops of blood is amusingly sensual. Not that I'd ever in a million years suggest it's a sly metaphor for pegging. Except for the part where I just did. They spar with each other in a very low-key manner for a bit before Kerr lays it all on the line for her. He's aware, for reasons as yet unexplained, of that "gathering storm" people have been mentioning in passing all season, and he's convinced the Glamorous Ladies will need his help when the as-yet-unknown threat erupts. Raige regards him for a long moment before coolly replying, "How do I know you're not the threat?" "I don't want to hurt you," he swears, but she just stares at him before dissolving into a cloud of Manor-bound orbs. Kerr sighs and lifts his eyes to the ceiling.
Over in the nonexistent attic, Piper's round of Book abuse has proven worthless. She and the ex bang their heads together for a bit before she peremptorily decides that their best plan of action involves setting a Mystical Crystical trap for the mauling beasties within the Manor itself, using another Whitelighter as bait. The Dolt objects, but Piper reminds him that "this could exonerate" the Dolt not only for the Mini-Ralph attack, but also for Stupid Uncle Phil's disappearance. Because the Elders are obtuse enough to believe the same entity perpetrated both crimes. What the fuck ever. Piper exits to prepare the infants for another trip to Not!warts. The second she's left the room, James Van Der Beek materializes to smack the Dolt in the face with some of that horrendous breath of his as he floats through the nonexistent room, crooning, "You can't be saved -- you're a danger to them all!" Thanks for that, Beek. The Dolt hacks and gags, because James Van Der Beek is in dire need of some Listerine.