Oh, ABC! You and your viewer-discretion advisory. Trying so hard to be all rough and tumble. It's cute. Anyway. We open on a very rainy day, and two FBI agents chasing some other dude through an alley. It's very blue in Richmond, apparently. I'll add that to the list of things cinematography has taught me about geography: thanks to Line Of Fire, I know that Richmond is blue. Thanks to Traffic, I know that Mexico is yellow. Anyway, they're doing that hand-held shaky camera thing here, and it really wants me want to vomit. Running, running, chasing, heavy breathing, grunting. Sounds like one of my dates. Fed #1 chases the perp down an alley and past a homeless guy, yelling, "Move! FBI!" at him. Like the homeless guy cares. Anyway, there is yet more chasing, until we get to the fenced-in end of the alley and the perp leaps into a giant bin of garbage. He and Fed #1 do that thing where they draw their guns on each other and stare at each other and breathe hard. Fed #1 is all, "Drop the gun, Charlie," and Charlie's all, "You'll shoot me," and Fed #1 is all, "No kidding," and they clearly know each other, like, Charlie is probably an informant or something. "I got a wife and kids," Charlie says. "So do I," Fed #1 heaves, and Charlie wails that he doesn't want to go to jail, and Fed #1 assures him that all he wants to do is talk (like, I've heard that line before and it is rarely true). "Malloy will kill me," Charlie whines, and this sounds threatening, although we later find out that Malloy resembles nothing so much as a Sociology professor with Irritable Bowel Syndrome and isn't really all that scary, and so it works that Charlie delivers this line with the urgency of a guy ordering a turkey sub. Anyway, of course, they both end up firing at the same time, just as Pokey Fed #2 -- did he stop for a coffee, or something? -- shows up. "Dammit!" he says, and looks sad. Because both Charlie and Fed #1 are dead now.
So, slightly later, Fed #2 is telling some policeman or security guard or someone that he's okay. "That was your partner?" the dude asks. "We worked on the same task force together," Fed #2 says. "SUCKS," the dude chirps. Um, yeah. Thanks for that, Señor Sensitivo. We get the first of many title cards here, IDing Fed #2 as "Amiel MacArthur, FBI Special Agent, Richmond Division." I hate the font they used for these cards -- it's like Elementary School Printing Font or something -- but I appreciate getting proper spellings and names right off the bat. It makes my job as a recapper much easier. Thanks, guys! So, the cop/security guard/dude runs off to "call this in" and Amiel calls his boss....
...played by Leslie Hope, formerly of 24, who is sleeping in her bra, like, I am so sure. Bras aren't that comfortable. I don't care how wasted I am -- not that, you know, I drink a lot or anything; I never go to sleep in my bra. It's this kind of thing -- striving for realism, but being hamstrung by network standards and practices -- that makes the show feel more contrived than it needs to. Instead of going for "gritty drunkard woman sleeping in her bra" as a placeholder for what would otherwise probably be a topless scene, just make it look like she went to sleep in her all her clothes, people. Anyway. She wakes up, rolls over, and answers the ringing phone. "Bert's dead, Lisa. Charlie shot him," Amiel tells her as she reaches for a glass of wine on the bedstand. 6:20 in the morning. My kinda girl. Lisa covers her eyes, but I don't know if that's in reaction to the bad news, or a hangover. "Dammit. What happened to Miller?" she asks. Amiel explains that Bert took him out before he got plugged. Lisa puts a cigarette in her mouth and wonders around it if anyone has notified "Estelle." Shaken, Amiel says he figured Lisa would want to do that. "Lisa, you're gonna do that, right?" he repeats. Lisa mutters that she will, and hangs up on poor freaked-out Amiel, saying that she has to call " the director." She puffs thoughtfully on her cigarette as a title card introduces her as "Lisa Cohen, FBI Special Agent in Charge, Richmond Division."
Split screen! As Lisa thinks, we head over to see David Paymer: The Most Miscast Mob Boss Ever, as he interrogates a hot young shirtless football player tied to a tree in the woods. Apparently, this kid was supposed to throw a game, but he saw a nice opening in the opposing team's defensive line and just went for the touchdown. He couldn't help it. "I'm an athlete, okay? I did it for the love of the game," he says. David Paymer looks unimpressed and also constipated. He complains that he lost $350,000 on that game. But he admires "a sense of competition in an athlete," and that's why he's not going to have Hot Shirtless Football Player wacked. He's just going to have his flunky beat the shit out of the kid's hands with a mallet instead. "Mr. Malloy, Please!" the kid yells as the flunky goes apeshit on his poor little hands. Title card: "Jonah Malloy, Boss, Malloy Crime Syndicate." Not. I would believe "Jonah Malloy, Weaselly Network Executive," or "Jonah Malloy, Crabby Father of Angsty Teen," but mob boss? No thanks, I'll pass.
Anyhoo, Malloy comes out of the woods and heads towards a car, where yet another old white flunky is waiting for him, as is his wife -- a woman who actually got the "and So and So as" credit in the credits despite the fact that she has literally, like, two words in this episode. She's no "Heather Locklear as Amanda Woodward," is all I'm saying. She pretends Malloy was just peeing in the woods. He pretends he was just peeing in the woods. I pretend I'm still recapping The X-Files, because that would mean that half of the people in this cast would end up as alien food. Flunky tells Malloy that "Bert Summers killed Charlie." And Charlie killed Bert Summers. "Charlie killed a Fed?" Malloy asks, and then announces that they "need to keep things cool." Because they "may be at war, here." He says this with the passion and urgency of a man who can't find his stapler.
As the credits begin to roll -- and I hate it when there's no actual credit sequence, because credit sequences equal rest for a recapper's tired hands -- a helicopter drops off a total Hey! It's That Guy! in the form of one FBI Director Thomas Shell. Lisa meets him at the airstrip, but he doesn't bother to shake her hand or even get off his cell phone to greet her. Instead, they climb into a car together and speed off.
Split screen to some guy sitting in front of a prison in his own sweet ride. The title card tells me that he's "Donovan Stubbin, Lieutenant, Malloy Crime Syndicate." The song playing on his car radio sounds like the haunting and beautiful tune "Come On Down To Omeletteville," as sung by Justin Timberlake during his most recent stint on Saturday Night Live. thing you know, the hot guy from Crossroads comes loping out of the prison gates. The title card tells me that his name here is Roy Ravelle. Time served? Two years, five months for aggravated assault. Let me just say here that I would not be at all aggravated, were he to assault me. Roy and Donovan hug and chat, and it sounds like they were in the joint together. While they shoot the shit about Roy's sneakers, the hot babe in the back seat makes eyes at Roy, and he takes a moment to make I've Been In The Joint for Two Years noises at her. Aw, how sweet to bring him a whore. And her name is Bambi. (Her name is Bambi?) Anyway, has Donovan talked to Malloy about getting Roy a job, Roy wonders? Donovan has. Business out of the way, Roy turns to Bambi and wonders if she's ever made love to man five minutes out of the joint. Oh, please. Who hasn't? Well, it turns out that Bambi hasn't, but she has been to jail twice. "It wasn't so bad," she says as she unzips his jeans. "You're really cute," she says. Donovan smiles and drives off as Bambi gets to work.
Over in the Feds' car, Shell gets the bullet on the Malloy sitch from Lisa. Dear God, what is up with Lisa's hair? She's got a femullet. That's just wrong. Shell wants to know why they can't just shut Malloy down. You'd think the FBI Director would know that...you know, it's not always that easy. Lisa explains that they're building a strong case, but that they're not ready to close in on him yet. "When we are, I assure you, all his walls will come tumbling down." I think I read about that in Sunday school. Lisa keeps yammering on about their plans, but is interrupted by her cell phone. "Good," she tells the caller. "Is everyone assembled? Where is Sampson?"
Turns out Sampson is in a traffic jam with her husband and two kids in the car. The kids are bickering, and the thing you know, her husband hits the car in front of them. Just a fender bender, nothing serious, but there's a whole lot of yelping and yipping from everyone in the car. Mr. Sampson gets out of the car to talk to the dude he hit, and the dude gets all surly and the thing you know, the boys are all getting testosterone-y (New! From Chef Boyardee!) and start shoving each other. Sampson leaps out of the car. "Nah nah nah nah nah Batmom!" the boy spawn sings. Sampson draws her FBI badge and throws the dude to the ground, telling Mr. Sampson, "Look, we really got to get the kids to school, okay?" "Well, there go my balls," Mr. Sampson thinks. Title card: "Jennifer Sampson, FBI Special Agent, Richmond Division." I really didn't know that you were allowed to use your authority as a federal agent for this kind of thing. For one thing, the Sampsons were totally at fault as far as the accident went. Second, wrestling this guy to the ground seems a little...extreme. Not to mention that I think that kind of behavior totally opens the Bureau up to lawsuits for...you know, unprovoked use of force or something. Mr. Sampson quietly makes Sampson let the dude up, and everyone climbs back into the car. "Girls rule," the girl spawn announces. I know some people on the forums liked that line, but I hate, hate, hated it. For one thing, can't the girls on this show just rule without having a tertiary character announce that they rule? Second, while God knows I am a big fan of the ass-kicking female character, I don't know that teaching your daughter that you ought to bully people when you're actually in the wrong "rules" at all. And while I am not the sort of person who cares at all if someone calls me a "girl" -- because I still feel like one -- I think that by the time you have two kids, you're technically a woman. Anyway. I guess the other reason I hated that line was that I feel like this show is trying so very hard to be all "Girls Rule!" because the producers think that's what the audience wants to see, not because they really believe it. Because otherwise, I don't think we'd be getting hit over the head with it so hard. It would just be accepted fact, the way it is on, say, Alias.
Sampson finally bustles into FBI HQ, wondering to her assistant where everyone else is. Her assistant tells her that she had better get into the conference room, because old Bert got plugged that morning. Sampson sneaks into the conference room, where Shell is giving a really lackluster speech about how much it sucks when a co-worker is killed, and then he tells them that they've got to get over it, like, right now, because they've got work to do. Lisa just stands behind him and looks sour.
Split screen to a bar where all these middle-aged and bland-looking mobsters are standing around and talking about dead Poor Dead Mobster Charlie. "It's A Man's World" plays in the background, like, I GET IT. Men run the mob. The FBI -- in this incarnation -- is full of women. Why don't they just record a song for the soundtrack with lyrics like, "The Mob is run by men/ But the FBI is full of women trying to take them down/ We saw how popular that Jennifer Garner girl got on that other show/ And now we're trying to make a show about female FBI agents without actually making it about female FBI agents or hiring any women to write for it, direct it, or produce it/ Girls rule, but only if they sleep in their bras." Anyway, what was I talking about? Right. Malloy is making this really anemic and ineffectual speech about something. People, this man isn't cut out for anything above middle management. Anyway, he tells the assembled that it's not appropriate for them to go to Charlie's funeral, but they ought to pass the hat for Poor Dead Charlie's widowed bride. "Because when you're with us, you're with us," he says, before he dramatically stammers that the Feds murdered Charlie. "He was just minding his business. Or our business." Which is, by the way, illegal, Malloy. When you're in the Mafia, you've got to understand that a few guys are gonna get wacked by the Feds along the way, and if you can't handle that, I suggest you enter the civilian workforce. Malloy then says that he cares about all his "men" and that he'll stand up for them, because they're "good men." Wow, this eulogy sure is an awful lot about you, Malloy. "Anyway. That's that with that," he concludes. In the back of the bar, Roy looks unimpressed. I was under the impression that mob leaders, like political leaders and movie producers, generally had to have some kind of charisma in order to be effective leaders, but apparently that is not the case. Listen, I think David Paymer is a good actor, but he's terribly miscast here. I find him neither charismatic nor particularly threatening in this role, and I don't understand why anyone would follow him into jaywalking, much less a life of criminal activity.
Outside the makeshift wake, Donovan introduces Roy to Malloy. Before getting to the pleasantries, though, Malloy tells Donovan that revenge for Charlie would be a very bad idea. Donovan agrees, and they finally turn their attention to hot, hot Roy. "You come with high recommendations from low places," Malloy says. Roy manages not to roll his eyes as Malloy tells him that he's sure Roy's all evil and shit, but that they need to do their "due diligence" before he can start doing their scut work.
Over at Quantico, Leslie Bibb -- I'm sorry, "Paige Van Doren, FBI Trainee" -- is taking a test. She looks up and stares at this totally hot guy toward the front of the room. He's title-carded as "Todd Stevens, FBI Trainee," and he appears to be glancing at his neighbor's test.
Later, in the lab, Todd is all minding his own beeswax when Paige comes tearing in and really lets her sanctimonious freak flag fly, which is a great way to make the audience totally hate your character right off the bat. "I saw you cheat on the test today," she announces. Todd calmly tells her that she didn't see anything. "And what we you doing looking my way during the test anyway?" he asks. Well, Todd, you're hot. Face it. Then Paige launches into this annoying bit about the honor code and that's why their tests are unproctored and blah blah blah, Paige, I've only known you for, like, two minutes, but for the love of God, would you please shut up? Todd doesn't even roll his eyes, but just tells her to save her "self-righteous indignation for the bad guys," "You're a cheater, Todd!" Paige squeals. He tells her to keep her voice down, and explains that he "glanced at a paper," but didn't cheat. Paige looks constipated. "I'll never do it again. Can we live happily ever after now?" Todd asks. "Do you have any respect for where you are?" Paige screeches. "Help me understand. This is not high school. We are all grown-ups. This is real," Paige says, and she continues in this vein, but I can't listen anymore because I already can't stand the sound of her voice. She says something irritating to the effect that "no cheater should be allowed to keep this nation safe," and Todd is basically like, "Look, I'm busy. Leave me alone, freakshow." Paige then shakes her head at him for, like, twenty minutes, and then walks off. Man, I hate her. No, I mean I really, really hate her.
Back at FBI HQ, Sampson and Amiel are standing by the coffee machine and talking about how Amiel can't handle watching his buddy Bert getting buried when Lisa comes in and tells them that "Crazy Jazz" is waiting for them in the conference room. Amiel acts all squirrelly, and Lisa is all, "Can you handle this, or what?" and Amiel swears he can, and he and Sampson do this thing where they both knock on the countertop a couple of times and then head off. Lisa looks steely. Dear Leslie Hope: Please go back to your pixie cut or make hair and wardrobe give you a wig. Because you're better than this hair. Thanks. Love, The World.
Conference room. Crazy Jazz -- who looks neither crazy, nor jazzy -- cheerfully gnaws on an apple. "Hey, what's up, man?" he chirps as the agents come in the room. "Hey, how you doin', baby?" he coos to Sampson, as she takes a seat at the conference table, her breasts bobbing all over the place underneath her very cleavage-y top. It doesn't seem very office-appropriate, but I'm really not one to talk. I wore a halter top to work Friday. I had a cardigan on, too, but still. "Special Agent Sampson," she corrects him. "Special. Agent. Sampson," Crazy Jazz repeats, slowly and appreciatively. I kind of love him. "Yeah, that's right," she tells him. I kind of love her, too. I approve of a woman who isn't afraid to flash a little cleav in the workplace. Crazy Jazz wonders why he can't call his lawyer, staring at Sampson's breasts all the while. Amiel tells him he's not under arrest. "Then I want to go home," Crazy Jazz says. But Amiel doesn't think that's a good idea. Sampson shrugs, suddenly. "Hey, let's let him go," she says. "What do we care? We fulfilled our obligation, we're good." Amiel hems and haws at her, and this is clearly their version of Good Cop, Bad Cop, although it's more like Unconcerned Cop, Wishy-Washy Cop, and, no, I don't know why I call him by his first name and her by her last, but it's like why you call Sydney Bristow "Sydney" and Michael Vaughn "Vaughn." It just is. Anyway, Sampson's little Psych 101 trick works, and Crazy Jazz is curious. About why he's been called into the Bureau, and also about Sampson's cup size. "What? What are you looking at?" she finally snaps at him. "Nothing," Crazy Jazz says, sheepishly, and the camera slyly moves in and cleverly cuts her breastage out of the shot. Nicely done. Anyway, Sampson brusquely announces that Crazy Jazz's life is in danger. "We have an obligation to tell you, you're told," she says. Her accent is just adorable.
But the thing you know, Crazy Jazz is sitting in, like, a supply closet, listening to a taped confrontation, which, thanks to the miracle of television, we at home get to watch. Somewhere, on a dock in the middle of nowhere -- presumably, because it seems misguided for the Mafia to beat the shit out of some guy on a dock in the middle of a residential-type waterway -- Malloy and his Two Boring Old Indistinguishable Flunkies are putting the screws to some poor dude with a bag over his head. "Four Days Earlier," the title cards tell us. Anyway, the Two Boring Old Indistinguishable Flunkies would like to know who supplied Baghead with the "crack they found on little Jimmy." "Little Jimmy"? What is this, a particularly dark episode of Lassie? (I know, I know, that's Little Timmy, but it's the same tone.) Baghead won't talk, and Malloy wheezes that he admires this, because "loyalty is the cornerstone of the business," and I guess this would all be menacing if these lines were coming out of someone who actually seemed menacing -- James Gandolfini springs to mind, or Bobby Cannavale in his Kingpin mode -- but, I'm sorry, David Paymer, I loved you in Quiz Show, but I just do not buy you as the head of a Mafia family and I am frankly surprised that ABC didn't ask to have this role recast. Anyway, Malloy wants to know whom Baghead is being loyal to. Baghead is silent. So Malloy bangs him on the head with a metal pipe. "I'm loyal to my nephew Jimmy," he quivers. "Now, who do you work for?" Yeah, that was a lot more effective when Kiefer Sutherland yelled it. Also, the median age of the Mafiosos on the dock is, like, sixty-five. I have a feeling that Baghead could probably outrun the three of them with the chair still tied to his ass.
Anyway, Baghead finally admits that he's working for Crazy Jazz. "What? Crazy Who? What is this mutt barking about?" Malloy asks. One of the Two Boring Old Indistinguishable Flunkies explains that my man Crazy Jazz is a "dime bag lowlife who works the east side." So Malloy then beats the shit out of Baghead. "You sold crack to my nephew!" Malloy wails petulantly. Um, Malloy? Your nephew bought the fucking crack and, I presume, smoked it, so why don't you take this up with him? Are other crack dealers supposed to vet their clientele before selling them rock? This seems like a really inappropriate response to learning that your nephew is smoking crack. Sure, rough the dealer up, but kill him? Give me a break. I'd think the Malloy crime family would have bigger fish to fry, but it appears that they spend all their time getting mad at college kids for losing them money on a football game and beating up small-time drug dealers. This isn't very impressive to me as far as crime family activity goes. Where's the big-time drug-running? Or the prostitution rings? Fixing elections? Come on! Besides, shouldn't Malloy have better things to do than take care of these things, anyway? This is why you have flunkies. Anyway. "That's that with that!" Malloy yells as he throws down the pipe. Oh, my GOD. I have had it with "that's that with that." It's annoying. It's not catchy. It is not going to catch on. ABC is not going to sell thousands of t-shirts saying "That's That With That" on them. Let it go. Anyway, the Flunkies agree that they'll track down Crazy Jazz, and they'll make him pay. Oh, yes, he shall pay. Malloy scampers off, and one of the Flunkies kicks Baghead off the dock and into the drink. The other Flunky whines that now they're going to have to fish him out and put him on a boat and take him to the middle of the river, which was a funny throw-away line. The camera pans over to reveal a recording device rather poorly concealed on the dock. How did the Feds know there was going to be shit going down on this particular dock? How secluded is this dock, anyway? It seems awfully out in the open air for a torturing. I'm telling you, this portion of the Mafia doesn't seem very well run.
Back at the Bureau, Crazy Jazz listens to the tape and looks perturbed. He tells Amiel and Sampson that he doesn't recognize Baghead's voice, and then there's this whole tiresome back-and-forth, like we can't see where this is going, and eventually Crazy Jazz starts to freak out after Amiel tells him that he can probably talk his way out of Malloy's killing him, which, seriously, doesn't seem that unlikely to me. "Wait, y'all ain't gonna protect me?" Crazy Jazz squeals. "We just did. We're not a baby-sitting service," Amiel tells him. Crazy Jazz yelps that he needs the Feds to watch his ass: "I pay my taxes! If this dude Malloy wants to ice my ass, you're going to have to protect me. Look what he did to Terrence!" Dude, I kind of love Crazy Jazz. I wish this show were The Awesome Adventures of Crazy Jazz. Sampson pretends there's nothing they can do for him, telling they've fulfilled their obligation to him, and walking away. "I'm an American citizen here," Crazy Jazz yells after her.
And...act break. That is a horrible, horrible act-out. Seriously, what about that act-out makes you want to stay on this channel? Was this show originally cut with an eye toward cable? Because the pacing feels really off for a show with has commercial breaks. If anything, it seems that you should break for commercial after Malloy kicks Baghead into the river. Of course, that would make it difficult to use the flashback structure for that scene, but the flashback seemed clunky to me, anyway, because the tape recorder hidden in the dock feels unlikely and wrong anyway. This whole segment of the plot feels like it needed to be rethought, as far as I'm concerned.
After the commercials, ABC sends us back to the coal mines: dealing with Paige. She's eating lunch and is shortly joined by Todd, who's clearly trying to make nice. He tells her that he turned himself in, telling their instructor that he inadvertently saw someone else's answers. "Good," Paige says shortly. Todd sighs. "I'm trying, here. I'm taking the test over again," he says. "He commended me for my honesty. And now we can move on. You're going to have to go out with me." Okay, here's the thing: why does Todd want to go out with this uptight, sanctimonious girl? Someone on the boards noted that Paige is like Joey Potter, version 2.0. Special Agent Joey Potter, who is approved of and lusted after by all and sundry, despite the fact that she's actually really unpleasant and difficult. I thought I'd escaped you, Joey Potter, but I find that I can never outrun your evil reach. "Really?" Paige drips and crosses her arms over her breasts. Dude, men don't actually ask women out when they're being this bitchy. I know. I've tried it. "What's with the attitude?" Todd asks. "I'm a better man because of you. It's not like I asked you to have sex with me or anything. In fact, I forbid it. It's my first-date rule." Paige smirks. He grins, charmingly. "Come on, if the guys are gonna see I'm not a warrior, at least they can see that I can conquer as a poet and a lover," he adds. Oh, Todd. You had me, and then you lost me. I think you're as cute as can be, but no one talks like that. Paige shakes her head. "You lost me after no sex on the first date," she says. "Really?" Todd asks. Paige, patronizingly: "No, Stevens, not really," Oh, Paige. I almost liked you for a second there, and then you ruined it. She stalks off and Todd chuckles at what I suppose we're supposed to read as moxie. The sad thing is, I really like Leslie Bibb as an actress. But this character is completely unworkable: humorless, unsympathetic, holier-than-thou.
Over at the pool, the trainees are doing survival exercises. Todd chats in line, as Paige climbs onto the diving board, leaps into the water, and freaks. Todd has to leap in and save her ass. Apparently, she can't swim. Surely, she knew this test was coming. She couldn't take a class at the Y to prepare? Hate you, Paige. Everyone looks concerned as Todd hauls her out of the pool, but she refuses to sit down and rest, and instead heads back to the diving board. The instructor directs her to get the hell down, but she ignores him. Disobeying a direct order? Classy. "Go get her down," the instructor tells Todd, sounding as though they've been through this song and dance before. Todd and his fine abs climb to the end of the platform, chatting all the way. "You can't swim, huh?" he asks. Paige stares at the water and shakes her head. Oh, let her drown, Todd. "Back at the country club at home, we got this mother platform," Todd says cheerfully, telling her that it took him five times before he could get the nerve to leap. "Anyway, my mom, her name is Fay," he continues, but Paige interrupts, and asks him he if ever stops talking. Todd doesn't answer, but keeps chatting about his mother. "Oh, give me a breeeeaaaak," Paige says, leaping off the platform with the last word. And, of course, Little Paige Van Doren and her Incredible Moxie somehow manages to figure out the survival trick, and if her classmates start doing the slow clap, I am quitting. "You go, Paige," Todd says to himself. Todd! You're better than that. The Swelling Violins of Brave Americans swells on the soundtrack as Paige paddles around the pool with her pants around her neck. I want to vomit. The real FBI would have kicked her ass out of the Bureau before she got within six miles of this pool. "You just bought yourself a new agent review board, Van Doren," the instructor tells her. Marry me, instructor.
Review board. Old Man in a Suit tells Paige that this is "a pretty flagrant violation." "I guess so, but I passed," Paige bitches. Nice respect for authority, trampwad. "That's what I'm supposed to do," Paige adds. Suit tells her that her skills are "top-notch," but that she's never going to make it in the FBI acting like "some kind of lone ranger." No kidding. Look at poor Agent Mulder. He was always getting killed, getting fired, getting suspended, getting fired, getting killed, getting abducted, or getting suspended. "No shit," mutters my Agent Mulder action figure. At least Agent Mulder was amusing and charming, if overly likely to lose his gun. Paige really doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Suit notes that Paige seems to have "some kind of open hostility toward authority figures, and that's not good." Paige agrees that, given her past behavior, this is hard to argue with: "But I can work at it. I can change." Well, clearly, Paige, you can't, if you've been acting like this for a while and you'll still pulling this stupid shit. "I want to be here. Sir, with all my heart I want to be here," Paige tells him. "Why?" Suit asks. And here we go. "I'm here because of my husband Jake," Paige says. Suit asks if he's in the Bureau, and Paige announces that he was in the Pentagon on September 11th: "He died. He'd just made commander." Okay, first of all, this totally would have been in her file when she tried to apply to Quantico. There would have been no need for this expository speech about how Paige vowed, at her dead husband's funeral, "to get those bastards." She sniffs. "I was going to get them and I was going to make them pay." And if she ever managed to talk her way into the FBI, this is where she would get drummed out. I understand that she's got some issues due to her husband's death. Of course she does; that's natural. But those are issues that should be addressed in therapy, not at work. Paige has a personal vendetta, it will cloud her judgment and she would never ever have passed the psych eval with this on her record. Moreover, because she is such a nasty, unlikable character, this revelation feels like a shameless ploy to make her sympathetic. But because of the way this character has been written up to this point, she's not an interesting woman with a horrible tragedy in her past, but rather an asshole that we kinda feel like we're not allowed to hate now, but we do anyway, and that makes us hate her more. The September 11th card is a hard one to play, and I think it misfired here. It borders slightly on tastelessness, and although I don't think the show's Powers That Be have crossed that line, it's a delicate balance and, frankly, I think Paige's characterization is off all across the board. Anyway, Paige continues, saying that this is the only place that she can keep that promise to her husband. Except, um, the CIA. But whatever. That's another show. A better one. She's practically daring the Suit to kick her out, after this sad tale. Suit wonders if she knows it could be years before she can "go counterterrorism." Paige nods. "But there are plenty of other bad guys to go after in the meantime. I don't mind screwing around with them while I'm waiting to indulge my own personal vendetta, probably getting a bunch of other people's spouses killed in the meantime."
Roy and Donovan are out driving around and very conveniently happen across Crazy Jazz, hanging out on his porch in broar daylight, and this is when I knew Roy was actually a Fed. Whoops, did I ruin that reveal for you? Sorry. Anyway. Roy sees Crazy Jazz, confirms with Donovan that he is, in fact, Crazy Jazz, and leaps out of the car and plugs both Crazy Jazz and a woman who saw the whole thing. Then he leaps back in the car and they drive off. Donovan is freaking out, saying that they're going to end up in the joint again. Roy is unconcerned about this, even after Donovan tells him that this isn't the way they do things around here. "You got your ways, I got mine," Roy remarks calmly. Donovan yells and yells about how this was totally crazy and what's wrong with Roy and blah blah blah blah. "Whatever," Roy says lightly. I sort of love Roy. I would love him even if he was a real killer. He finally apologizes half-assedly. "Now I gotta see what Malloy has to say," Donovan whines. And we go to commercial. On that? You're kidding me. Again, a soft, soft act-out. You obviously go out on Roy shooting the woman with the groceries and then speeding away. I can't believe ABC didn't give notes on these act-outs, because they are really weak.
Sitting on some kind of commuter train, Paige fondles her badge and dreams of revenge. Todd takes a seat across from her and, of course, starts yapping, this time about how nervous he gets on public transport. "Talking relaxes me," he tells her. "By the time we get there, you're gonna think you've been on the train to Bolivia." Paige asks Todd what he's doing there. Um getting from Point A to Point B? I dunno. He explains that he was assigned to the Richmond District. Just like her. He looks pleased. "I think I'm just gonna listen to my music," Paige says, not that unkindly considering the source. Todd cheerfully suggests they go to dinner. "There are some great places in Richmond. I looked them up on Zagat," he says. Paige, just tell him you're a widow, for Christ's sake, and he'll back off. Instead, she just tells him to back off. "I'll let you pay," he grins. "You're a piece of work," she snarls, like he told her he'd let her unbutton her own blouse or something. Loosen up, Paige, or be honest with this guy who, may I remind you, just saved your goddamned life in that pool.
Richmond FBI. Paige checks in with the receptionist, asking for "Mrs. Cohen," whom she finds on the roof, letting her femullet out for some air. "Excuse me. Are you Special Agent in Charge Cohen?" Paige asks. "Uh huh," Lisa says with the tone of someone who really wishes she was not Special Agent in Charge Cohen at that moment. Paige introduces herself, and it turns out that she's a week early. Lisa wonders if Paige couldn't stomach the idea of some time off. "No, vendetta to get to," Paige says. "Rookie-itis," Lisa says, and suggests Paige come back on the 13th, as planned. Paige starts yammering about something, and Lisa interrupts. "Your orders are a week from now. I pushed them as a matter of good taste." But Paige wants to start nooooow. Lisa repeats that her timing is really bad and suggests she do some sight-seeing. "Honestly," Paige begins. "Honestly? We just buried the agent you're replacing. Go get yourself settled. I don't want to see you until Tuesday," Lisa repeats. Paige. Jesus. Listen to your boss. Instead, she just pouts. "Yes, ma'am. Tuesday," Paige finally says, and stomps away. Lisa sighs and shakes her head.
Across town, Roy is hanging out with Mr. Malloy and Donovan, and some other random guys who are watching three different college football games on three separate TVs, and if that's Mafia behavior, Heathen and I are running our own little crime family here in Los Angeles. Thanks to my awesome new TiVo, I can tell that one of the games is UCLA -- our blue and gold uniforms are quite distinctive. Go Bruins! If only we didn't suck so very hard this year. Malloy is really more interested in the game than he is in talking to Roy and Donovan about Crazy Jazz, and in fact, he and Roy talk football briefly, Roy making some small talk about "State's secondary," like, what State are we talking here? Richmond is in Virginia, and I assume that Malloy is running around in Virginia, too, right? Anyway, Virginia State doesn't have a good football team. Virginia TECH is good, but they'd call it "Tech," not "State." Anyway. I just like a little accuracy in my fake football talk, and this is something that would be easy for someone to check, I would think. Unless Malloy is not in Virginia, but he'd have to be to be in the Richmond district's jurisdiction. My head hurts. Anyway, after talking sports, the boys talk about how Roy shot that old lady. "Not that old," Roy drawls, sort of charmingly. Malloy "appreciates what [Roy] did," but he's lucky he "hasn't gotten pinched." Roy is all, yeah, whatever, sorry. I just love shooting shit. Malloy quickly gets distracted by the game -- the monitor he's looking at is the UCLA game -- and screams, "Oh, crap! Crap! Friggin State!" This is where network TV loses the realism battle to cable, because the phrase he is looking for is "cocksucking motherfucking offensive line can't block for shit." Malloy turns, and decides to hire Roy, giving him $500 a week and "fridge privileges," but docks him a week's pay for plugging the old broad. "See, we're businesspeople here. Some business is bad business, no matter what," he announces, and blah blah blah, I guess we're not supposed to shot civilians. Roy swears that he understands. "Okay. That's that with that," Malloy says. DUDE. What did I say about that phrase? Can we hold it to once an episode?
FBI. Paige sits at a table, looking through some files. Lisa opens the door to this office and makes a face. "Van Doren. Did I not just tell you to leave and not come back for a week?" she asks. Hello? Anyone? This isn't moxie. It's trouble. Paige is going to get someone shot. Hopefully, herself. Paige nods. "You may have set some kind of record. I don't think anyone's ever been suspended forty-five minutes into the job. I'll see you in two weeks," Lisa says. And that's when I fell in love with Lisa Cohen. Do you think she's related to Seth Cohen? Anyway. Paige sputters that she was just looking at Agent Summers's files. "I was just seeing whose shoes I had to fill," she explains, and then realizes that she's really getting off on the wrong foot, so to speak, and decides to solve this by standing up and announcing that she doesn't have a problem with authority. That's like me standing up and announcing that I don't like shoes or beer. "This work means so much to me and..." Paige trails off. Lisa tells her to shut it, and then invites her to dinner. Paige smiles wildly and agrees. "I'm not asking you on a date, Van Doren. I do this with all the new agents. Shop talk." She explains that she's doing it with Todd later. I wish I were doing it with Todd later. Whoops, did I say that? Lisa looks down at Paige's rather cute black Mary Janes. "What's with the shoes?" she asks. "You're not working as a cocktail waitress. Those things are uncomfortable, you can't run in them, and even if you could, bad guys would hear you coming a mile away." Eh, tell that to Buffy Summers, Sydney Bristow, and Agent Scully, Lisa. Hot Television Women have been fighting crime and/or vampires in heels since the dawn of time. You had me and then you lost me. Besides, this is where we're getting realistic? It's Paige's shoes that are the problem, rather than her crazy personal vendetta? Okay. Anyway, Lisa tells Paige to put those files away and meet her at 8.
Across town, Roy and Donovan walk around and chat about the dangers of secondhand smoke. After a moment, they get to talking about the Feds. Donovan says that the FBI is really riding them. "You know, they have a Jew lady that runs the Feds satellite office down here," he says. Oh, charming. Sexism and anti-Semitism. Two great tastes. Roy manages to bury his distaste, and produces a chuckle. "Don't see that too often," he says. Donovan says that Lisa's not a bad looking broad, and he'd like to give her "a good banging." And then he'd like to slice her head off and send it over to Malloy. "That way everyone ends with a smile on their face," he finishes. Ooookay. You're not deranged or anything. Roy looks perturbed, and calls that "appalling." He waits a beat. "I mean, aren't you married?" he asks. Donovan just laughs. And we go to commercial on the third uninspired act-out in a row.
Dinner. Lisa says that she read Paige's file from Quantico: "A letter of censure for, shockingly, disobeying an order." Paige yelps that she can explain. "Yeah, don't," Lisa says, swigging some hard liquor, and saying that she knows Paige is "just eager." Paige proves this by telling Lisa that she has no ties, or hobbies, and is at Lisa's service, day or night. That sound you hear is a million fanfic writers starting up their laptops. Lisa asks Paige about Todd, and Paige calls him "decent," but is distracted by a dude at the bar who's blatantly checking then out. It's Roy, who sends Lisa a drink. Paige looks appalled. "Are you really gonna drink that?" she asks, horrified. "Mmm-hmm," Lisa says, matter-of-factly. Hee. Roy comes over and takes a seat, and he and Lisa pretend they don't know each other. After some basic pleasantries, Lisa excuses herself and heads for the ladies' room. "I got to tell you, she probably sizzles in the sack," Roy whispers to Paige. "I simply wouldn't know," Paige sniffs. Roy hides a smile and leaves her, going after Lisa and looking vaguely pleased with himself.
Roy climbs the stairs and walks in on Lisa in the bathroom. She turns and tells him he was way out of line. "She is a brand-new agent!" she yelps. Toldja he was a Fed! His haircut is too nice for him to be an actual criminal. Lisa would like it if Roy started following the rules, she says. Roy says he had to talk to her: "I spent two and a half years in the joint for the Bureau..." Lisa agrees that this was way beyond the call of duty. Roy tells her that he still hasn't gotten paid for it. He is beyond broke. Lisa is, naturally, horrified, and promises to rectify this. She then explains -- for the audience's benefit, of course -- that Crazy Jazz is not so much dead as well on his way to Witness Protection. And that, of course, Grocery Lady was a plant. Roy and Lisa stare at each other. Oh, just do it and get it over with. Roy sighs that he didn't get to go to Bert's funeral. Lisa tells him it was beautiful. Silence. "You look good," she tells him. "Thanks. You look good too, by the way." Hmm, I'm taking back my suggestion that they do it, and hypothesizing that they've already done it, in the past, and they want to do it again. Roy eyes the cigarette in Lisa's mouth and wonders how many times she tried to quit while he was gone. "Twelve. It gets easier every time," she says, lighting the cig. I gotta tell you, these two have some good chemistry. If we could kill off Paige and recast Malloy, we'd have a show. Roy looks at her and nods, and goes.
Downstairs, Roy walks past Paige waiting at the bar. "Sizzles, indeed," he whispers at her as he walks by. Lisa follows a few feet behind, looking satisfied with her cigarette. Paige looks horrified, all the way down to her prim little shoes. "What?" Lisa asks. "Oh, come on," she says. And then tells Paige to come on in to work the day.
We end with a montage, set to a cover of Bob Dylan's "Blowin' In The Wind." Paige wakes up, looking sadly at a picture of her husband. Roy walks around his apartment drinking coffee with no shirt. Donovan wakes up to a pretty black woman (and I find it interesting that a man in an interracial relationship would use the phrase "Jew lady," but I guess we'll see where that goes) to the sound of a crying baby. Todd picks out some pastries and tells the bakery lady about his mom. Her name is Fay. I love Todd. He's cheerful, and cute. He can talk my ear off any time he likes. Sampson and her henpecked husband bicker with the kids over breakfast. Crazy Jazz sits between two agents on an airplane and gives the flight attendant the eye. Lisa walks out to her car and, with effort, manages not to light a cigarette. Paige goes for a jog, running until she can't run no more. Malloy, somewhere, talks to bunch of other boring-looking suits. At the FBI, Paige is given her gun, and fondles it lovingly before placing it in her holster. Finally, Roy visits Bert's grave and looks sad. He sure is cute, but he's one dumb plant, because if someone is following him, he's toast.