Poor Sister Agnes (1834-1861). Her grave is being dug up underneath a blue camera filter while a mastiff barks menacingly nearby, tendrils of saliva flying from its mouth. The attempted creepiness of the scene is undercut somewhat by the giant Zenith ad that pops up to tell us the show is being presented in high-definition TV. Not on my set it's not; it's older than I am. The old casket is lifted out of the grave via ropes and a crane, but boards pop off, and the coffin swings wildly before falling, knocking over one of the diggers, who, in trying to break his fall, gets a rusty nail clear through his hand. Cool! I like this show already! Nail-Palm Guy quickly forgets his pain as he notices that the good sister has fallen out of her coffin, and her decidedly non-desiccated corpse is lying there, blue eyes rolled up in her head. And the opening credits appear to consist solely of the word MIRACLES in red on a black background. Oooh! How stark!
, a dude's taking pictures at the morgue. And there's Skeet. He was available. He strolls up to have a look at the corpse as the sheriff explains that due to some zoning thing, all the corpses have to be out of there, and there's a priest who says that "many saints have defied the process of decay," and he sounds pretty self-assured; the sheriff says that Sister Agnes should be "dust," as she's been dead for more than a hundred years. Skeet bends over and takes a big ol' whiff of the corpse and says "sweet." The priest says it's "the odour of sanctity," whatever that means. He asks if Skeet's ever seen anything like this, and Skeet's all nonchalant, "Once or twice." He asks for a syringe, which the coroner fetches. And Skeet STICKS IT IN AGNES'S EYEBALL, and I have a hard time believing the priest didn't object to Skeet plunging a big needle into this supposed saint's eye. Skeet withdraws some eye fluid -- vitreous humour, if my biology classes aren't completely lost to me -- and drips a few drops of it onto a slide. The coroner says, "Alkaline?" and Skeet's all "yup" and the sheriff wants to know what's going on, but instead of telling him (or us), Skeet just wants to know where they found the body.
Out at the gravesite, a policeman is putting up yellow police tape, which Skeet ducks under. The cop tells him he can't go in there, and Skeet wants to know why not, and the cop explains there's supposed to be some guy coming down to "check the site for miracles, or something like that," and Skeet says, "I'm the guy," and even he rolls his eyes at how contrived that dialogue was. Skeet wanders over to the gravesite, and sifts his fingers through the dirt. The priest strolls up and wants to know if they can begin the process of canonization, but Skeet, all Encyclopedia Brown instant-deduction, says, "There's no miracle here," and says the nun's body has been kept intact by the natural preservatives in apricots, and Skeet gives this scientific explanation about the gas in rotting apricots saturating the ground, and I have no idea if any of this is fact-based, and the priest says, "That's impossible," which is pretty hilarious when you think of what the priest's theory is, and even funnier when you realize that come Sunday the priest is going to be turning wine into blood and bread into flesh. Anyway, Father Impossible says he really thinks Skeet's wrong, so Skeet stomps on over to another coffin lying around and pries it open with a crowbar. Inside is some non-decayed dude. "Congratulations, Father. You've got a town full of saints," says Skeet. D'oh!
I guess miracle investigation doesn't pay all that well, since Skeet drives off in a station wagon through a crowd of onlookers while some guy watches him.
Back at -- I don't know, miracle investigation headquarters or wherever, Skeet's all lost in thought and not watching where he's going, and he bumps into Hector Elizondo, who calls that a fine hello, and Hector's a priest, but Skeet just calls him "Poppy" and they hug, and Poppy asks how he's doing, and Skeet, obviously lying, says he's good, and Poppy asks what's wrong and Skeet says "nothing" and Poppy gets all serious and says "like hell," and I guess he's supposed to be the Gruff No-Nonsense Priest, also typified by the little toque he puts on. And now he's taking Skeet to the "confessional," which turns out to be a bar, and maybe Poppy can run a boxing club for troubled youths or something to round out the stereotypical Irish priest character here.
Skeet starts complaining about debunking miracles since people always look like they've been gut-punched when he does it, and Poppy offers up some platitudes about faith being tested, in between big swigs of beer. Skeet says that in the past six months he's seen weeping statues, housewives with stigmata, and glowing crosses, and every time there's been a "mundane explanation," and adds, "The one thing I haven't seen is the true spirit of God." Hesitating, he says, "Maybe we're on our own down here." Poppy says "test of faith" again, but Skeet (whose character's name is Paul) says he needs to take some time off and figure things out. Poppy wants to know if he's sure, and when Skeet says he is, Poppy tells him to "work extra hard on the faith thing" while he's on sabbatical, and maybe everyone watching can drink whenever Poppy uses the word "faith."
Skeet's on a train, looking glum. A few seats away, facing him, is a kid tossing a baseball into his glove over and over. Skeet stares at him, but his attention is distracted by a water tower outside, with "God is coming" spray-painted on it, and the holy vandal has gone to the trouble of spray-painting a drop shadow under the words. Skeet turns back to the kid, who now looks frozen or something, with a red mark by his left eye. The kid opens his eyes, which are scarlet. Gah! "I'm waiting for you," says the kid, and stares, and this turns out to be a dream as an unshaven Skeet sits bolt upright when his incredibly piercing alarm clock goes off. He's in a motel room, and judging by the landscape and the flamenco-esque guitar music, we're in New Mexico or Arizona or even south of the border.
We're told that this is three months later and watch as Skeet builds a house with a bunch of other non-talking burly dudes. I guess Skeet grew the beard so he wouldn't look like such a wuss. An old native woman watches him intently, until he notices, and they stare at each other, with Skeet looking away first and totally losing the staring contest, and he looks a little weirded out by the stereotypical mystical Native American figure.
Back at the no-hell motel, Skeet's phone's ringing as he unlocks the door. It's Poppy, asking how desert life is. He hates to bother Skeet, but the monsignor has made a special request for him to check out the Ferguson family in Cottonwood, a couple of hours south, the day. Tell 'em Father Marcus got in touch, says Poppy. Skeet doesn't seem overly thrilled, but agrees anyway.
Skeet and the station wagon head down to Cottonwood. He stops at a train crossing, train rattling by, as Poppy's voice-over continues, telling Skeet he's supposed to ask for Thomas Ferguson. Meanwhile, Skeet looks up to see what looks like the same water tower from his dream, only there's no graffiti on it. A water tower without graffiti? There's your miracle, folks. Skeet pulls up through another crowd of gawkers clustered around the fence outside the Ferguson home. Some dude hobbles, as we see the fence festooned with ribbons and drawings. Skeet saunters up to the front door and knocks. A woman answers. Skeet introduces himself as "Paul Callan" and says that Father Marcus got in touch, and the woman, annoyed, tells him that Father Marcus has a big mouth. "If this is a bad time…" begins Skeet, but the woman just says, "It's always a bad time," and tells him to hurry up and get inside. She tells him to take off his shoes and asks him if he's sick, like with a cold or anything, and Skeet says no, and she says that's good. Meanwhile, one of the slack-jawed gawkers is peering in the window. Mrs. Ferguson yells at the guy to get away, and complains that it's been like this for weeks now; she tells a story about waking up in the middle of the night and finding a man in Thomas's room, just standing there looking at him. She leads Skeet to the stairs, but Skeet stops her to say that he hasn't been given a "full briefing" about the situation. "They didn't tell you what Thomas can do?" she says. Skeet says no. "He heals people," she says, and goes upstairs. Skeet gets this look on his face like "here we go again," and follows her.
"Thomas? There's someone here to meet you," she says, and this kid playing video games turns around. And in case you're completely brain-dead, we see a flash of the kid with the scarlet eyes from Skeet's dream, just so we're sure everyone knows it's the same kid. Both Skeet and Thomas look a little surprised, but the kid says "hi" and goes back to playing his video game, leaving Skeet free to make his perplexed face for about five hours. Commercials.
"He has Fanconi's anemia," Thomas's dad is saying, which is, according to him, a rare blood disorder with no cure. And my medical dictionary has a "Fanconi syndrome," which is a disorder of the kidneys, so close enough, I guess. Mom and Dad are looking at a family picture of them at Disneyland. Skeet wants to know when they first noticed Thomas's gift. They tell him it was about two months ago, when they were visiting Tommy's grandmother at the hospital; she's sick with liver cancer. As they were leaving, Tommy hugged his grandmother and said, "I hope you feel better soon." Two days later? Liver cancer gone! I'm wondering where Tommy's dad gets the energy for all his activities, as he used to be an Internal Affairs cop in New York and was always busting Andy Sipowicz's chops. And just a few weeks ago, he was a doctor helping Jack Bauer's CTU unit in their bomb investigation. And he used to call himself Jeff Smoodge when he was on The X-Files. As Tommy's dad tells the story, Skeet watches Mrs. F, who doesn't look up. He asks if she believes Tommy can heal. "I know he can. I've seen it," she says. Skeet wants to make sure they know that he's here to investigate, and if necessary, authenticate this. They do. He tells them the first step is to talk to someone Tommy has helped.
But instead of an old dowdy grandmother, how about a sexy young chick? Sure! Skeet drives up to a trailer where a woman is unloading groceries. Skeet looks flustered when she spots him, probably because she's a babe. He says the Fergusons suggested that he talk to her about how Tommy cured her, and she instructs him to help her carry the groceries in. Inside, she leaves her sunglasses on. Skeet, while helping with the groceries, says that whatever Thomas did must have worked, since she doesn't look sick at all, and he says it rather appreciatively, and it's lucky he's not actually a priest as real miracle investigators are, since his basis for authenticating this little divine event seems to rest solely on how much he wants to do her. She says she wasn't sick, exactly. "So what did Tommy do?" asks Skeet. And she -- and we haven't even learned her damn name yet -- takes off her sunglasses, revealing milky-white eyes. Cataracts. "It tends to freak people out, especially when I drive," she says. Skeet tries to apologize for being freaked out, and she tells him not to worry about it; her optometrist is getting some custom-made contacts for her. She asks Skeet if he wants a drink, and he says yes, and he can barely look at her, which was kind of disquieting.
Out on the step, the woman describes how Mr. Ferguson brought Tommy over, saying he might be able to help with her eyes. And Tommy hugged her -- I'll bet he did -- and said he hoped she'd get better soon. "The morning, I could see," she says. All Skeet can say is "wow," and now he is studiously staring straight at her freaky non-eyes.
At the hospital, some doctor is saying there's a lot of fuss being made over nothing. It looks like Tommy's in the hospital for some tests. Skeet brings up Tommy's grandmother, but the doctor says she had already been showing signs of remission before Tommy's visit. And Kate Armstrong (which is apparently Blindy's real name)? The doctor says she was already able to see shapes and light and dark, and has had many treatments and surgeries for her condition. "People like to believe in magic, especially if it's coming from a sick little boy," she says. "But that's what he is: a sick little boy." She adds that all the attention is the last thing he needs. Skeet looks like he doesn't know what to say. And maybe his character doesn't know what to say, or maybe Skeet forgot his lines. Either way, I hereby christen this The Skeet Face, as I'm thinking we're going to see a lot of it.
Back at The Ferguson Clinic For Gimps, where Skeet's studying "acute pyelonephritis," which is a bacterial infection of the kidney substance, and we see in his notes "chromosome breakage test" and also "incurable." He looks up and sees Tommy playing catch by himself in the backyard. Skeet strolls outside to chat, inviting himself into a game of catch. He makes some small talk about Tommy being a Diamondbacks fan, which is unfortunate, and how Skeet is a Red Sox fan, which is really unfortunate. I mean, no wonder Skeet isn't sure God exists. Skeet starts blathering about how Father Calero (Poppy's real name) at the orphanage used to take them all to games. "You don't have parents?" says Tommy. Skeet says everyone has parents; he just never knew his. Small talk taken care of, Skeet says that when he arrived, he got the impression that Tommy was afraid of him, and asks if that was the case. Tommy doesn't answer, so Skeet skwats in front of him. "Are you afraid of me?" he asks. Tommy doesn't say anything, just walks away.
Inside, Mr. and Mrs. F are having a row, with Mr. F saying that Tommy wants to do it and Mrs. F saying, "He can't do this anymore. I won't let him!" Skeet wanders in and asks if everything's okay. Instead of telling Skeet to mind his own damn business, the dad says the hospital called, and they're sending over a woman with her baby, born prematurely with a damaged heart, and I have to say that I highly doubt the hospital would do that, but whatever. Mrs. F says that healing people takes a lot out of Tommy, while Mr. F spouts off on the gift God gave their son. "'God'?" says Mrs. F. Turning to Skeet, who's the "expert," she points out that Tommy can cure anyone but himself, and wants to know why God would do that. Skeet makes The Skeet Face. "I don't know," he says. Mrs. Ferguson says she'll take Tommy away if she has to. "For God's sake, it's killing him!" she yells, and naturally Tommy has wandered in to hear this last part of the argument. While the three adults stare awkwardly at him, Tommy puts down his ball glove and walks away.
Upstairs, Tommy's lying down when his mom comes in. Tommy apologizes for making them fight, and Mrs. F does her best to assure Tommy that it's not his fault and that his parents love him more than anything, et cetera. And she says if he never wants to "do that stuff" again, it's all right. "You know that, right?" Tommy thinks about it before nodding. Dad comes in. "Hey, buddy," he says. Mrs. Ferguson looks at him. Mr. F says there's someone downstairs to see him. Mrs. F has this pained expression on her face, and she gets up and leaves, walking past Skeet in the doorway, butting in once again. Mr. F walks out too, and Skeet's brought Tommy's baseball glove upstairs. He puts it down and turns to go, but Tommy asks him, "What happens when you die?" Skeet makes The Skeet Face before turning the question back on Tommy: "What do you think happens?" and Tommy says, "Something bad happens." Poor kid. Skeet says he'd like to believe that if you're a good person -- "like you are," he tells Tommy -- something good happens. Nice reassurance there, agnostic boy.
Downstairs, a woman is holding her decidedly non-premature baby with a full head of hair and a damaged heart, whom the hospital released into the care of a magical ten-year-old healer. Yeah, I'm buying that. And there's a shot of Tommy holding the suddenly bald baby, and then in another shot the baby's hair is back, and if this show wants to survive, maybe someone should introduce them to the miracle of continuity. "I hope you feel better soon," says Tommy, rocking the baby gently, while Skeet looks on, transfixed, Mrs. F refusing to watch, Mr. F watching intently. The baby stops squalling momentarily, then starts up again louder and more urgently than before. A trickle of blood rolls out of Tommy's nose, and the mom snatches her baby back while Mr. F moves to help her. Tommy collapses, and Mrs. F shrieks and rushes to his aid.
Skeet's walking down the highway in the blazing noonday heat, and he's talking on his cell phone, and how annoying is it that my first reaction was, "Can you hear me now? Good!" I'm not sure if we're supposed to guess right off that this is a dream sequence, but the brightness of the scene suggests it, as well as the fact that Skeet is walking, not driving, down the highway, not to mention that we've been left hanging as to what happened with Tommy, kind of like in The Sixth Sense when Bruce Willis is shot at the beginning and lies there dying, only we then shift to much later with Bruce Willis supposedly still alive, only it was never actually resolved until the plot twist which I saw coming a mile away, unfortunately precisely because of the way the movie skipped from Bruce Willis dying to Bruce Willis supposedly alive and well. And I hesitate to bring up the films of M. Night Shyamalan if only because some people have suggested the character of Tommy is a shout-out to the kid in The Sixth Sense and to Shyamalan himself, as if the plot device of a kid with supernatural tendencies was invented in 1999 -- I mean, go back past Stephen King to Henry James to the frigging Greek playwrights before handing out credit where credit is not due, kind of like how when The Usual Suspects came out, and that's a movie I love, but that doesn't mean I wasn't a little annoyed at the way Brian Singer seemed to be given credit for the invention of the unreliable narrator. I mean, don't get me started.
Anyway. Skeet's talking to Poppy and saying, "There's something really weird happening here," and Poppy says, "There's something wrong with the boy," before the phone cuts out. And any lingering doubts over whether this is a dream sequence are washed away by this rain of blood that starts pouring down on Skeet. He's at the train intersection again, by the water tower. Up ahead, Tommy's standing on the tracks with his baseball glove on, as the wooden crossing barriers come down and the bell starts clanking and we hear the train's horn a-honking. Tommy just stands there, so Skeet starts running towards him, but Tommy gets skrunched by the train. time, Skeet should consider not running in slow motion. And just before Skeet wakes up, this demonic face flashes for a split-second on the screen. I slowed my tape down to get a better look. I don't advise anyone else doing it, as it's a really creepy evil guy who will haunt me for the twenty minutes or so. The main reason I slowed the tape down was to see if I recognized the face, but it doesn't appear to be anyone from the show thus far. But it's somebody who should see a dentist.
Skeet wakes up from his spot in a chair in the Ferguson's living room. The doctor's there, tending to Tommy. "How is he?" asks Mr. F. The doctor tells him that Tommy's condition is deteriorating, but he's stable for now. Skeet whispers to Mrs. F, "Every time he cures someone, he gets sicker, doesn't he?" like, NO DUH SKEET, and the mom doesn't say anything, just looks down.
As the doctor's leaving, Skeet's made another conclusion. "Tommy doesn't have anemia, does he?" he says, pointing out that Fanconi's manifests itself at birth, but Tommy only started showing signs a year ago. The doctor wants to know if Skeet gets paid by the miracle. Skeet says Tommy shouldn't be getting sick this fast. The doctor launches into a story about a woman who got into a minor fender-bender and came into the hospital for some routine X-rays. The doctors found a brain tumour and removed it, but had it gone another couple of weeks undetected, she'd have been worm food. The woman called it a miracle, and the doctor asks what Skeet would call it. A coincidence? Good luck? Skeet says what's happening with Tommy can't be chalked up so easily, but the doctor insists that diseases progress at different speeds in different people. He asks her if she performed a chromosome breakage test since "it's one of the main…" but he never finishes explaining what it is or why it's significant, because the insulted doctor tells him she knows what it is and she performed the test herself. She advises Skeet that if he wanted to be a doctor, he should have gone to medical skool.
Gustave: Okay, cut it out.
Daniel: What?
Gustave: You know what. The whole "calling him by his real name, not his character's name" thing. Not to mention the "sk-" thing. If you start talking about the furniture, Sars is going to hear about it.
Daniel: I really have no idea what you're getting at.
Gustave: This ain't over.
Back at Blindy's trailer, Skeet's asking to come in and talk to her when he notices that now she has actual pupils and irises and everything, and she tells us the special contacts arrived in case we couldn't figure that out. She asks if he likes them, like maybe he might have preferred the freaky milky visionless orbs of unsettlement she used to have. He starts blathering on about how the harder he works at faith, the farther away it seems, and repeats his line "maybe we're all alone down here," which is what he thought when he left Boston. But now he's worried that maybe they're not all alone, because he's not sure that would be a good thing. He then apologizes for rambling, saying he's just trying to sort some things out. "You thought you could do that with me?" she says, touched. "Yeah, I guess I did," says Skeet, although I'm sure it's not all he thought he could do with her. He says he wanted to know what she thinks about the whole thing. She thinks miracles are like falling in love; you never really believe until it happens to you. They gaze at each other.
Now Skeet's visiting Tommy, lying in bed. Okay, so did Skeet and Kate do it or what? Because he was so in there. Anyway, Tommy's hooked up to an oxygen tube and other various contraptions, but Skeet's all, don't mind me, I know you're deathly ill and everything, but I'll continue to interrogate you. He wants to know why Tommy was so afraid of him when they first met. Projection much, Skeet? "I knew you were coming," says Tommy. "At first I thought you were Johnny Depp, but…anyway, I dreamed it. We were on a train…" and Skeet describes Tommy playing with his baseball, and they bond over the fact that they had the same dream. "Why is this happening to us?" Tommy asks. Skeet says he doesn't know. He tells Tommy to get some rest, which is what Tommy was doing before Skeet barged in just now. Tommy wants to know if Skeet's going to stay, and Skeet says he'll be right there, and Tommy says "good," because he'll feel "safer that way." Skeet pats the kid's forehead. Tommy says he learned in school that there's no such thing as dark, that it's merely the absence of light. "But maybe they're wrong," he says. "What do you think?" says Skeet, who certainly loves to ask that question. "I think the dark is its own thing too. I think it can do stuff. And sometimes I think it wants something," says Tommy. He looks at a disconcerted Skeet, who tries his best to smile before getting up to crash on the couch.
He's awakened in the middle of the might by Mrs. F putting a coat on Tommy. It's pouring rain outside. Mrs. F takes him to the front door. "Where are we going?" asks Tommy, but we don't hear an answer. Skeet watches them go, then gets up and follows them outside, where Mrs. F and Tommy drive off. Uh-oh. Hear that piano tinkling a simple four-note pattern high in the treble clef? That's never a good sign, especially when it's raining. Skeet gets in his station wagon and gives chase, window wipers set on the low setting, which isn't really appropriate for a monsoon like this, but I guess a clear windshield wouldn't really reflect lights as dramatically as it does when it's a little more rain-spattered. The Fergusons are stopped at an intersection up ahead -- the same train crossing with the water tower, which now says "God is coming" again. He's too distracted by that and his radio spookily coming on to brake, and when at the last second he sees the Fergusons, he swerves around them, right into the path of the oncoming train. And isn't it nice that some of the plot points that are as obvious as getting hit by a train, metaphorically speaking, are mirrored by Skeet actually getting hit by a train? The train carries Skeet's longer-no-longer quite a way down the track before it rolls down an embankment, coming to rest on its roof. Commercials. Gee, I can't believe this show might kill off its lead character on the series premiere! I wonder if there's anyone out there who can save Skeet!
In Skeet's deathmobile, the radio continues to fade in and out as he lies there. Back at the intersection, the Fergusons' car has conveniently -- plot-wise -- stalled, so Mrs. F tells Tommy she's going for help and orders him to stay in the car. As soon as she's gone, Tommy thinks long and hard and then heads for the wreckage. Inside, Skeet lies motionless. He's not dead, though; when Tommy arrives and asks if he's okay, he starts gasping and choking. Skeet blinks a couple of times, and we see the same guy who was watching Skeet at the cemetery right behind Tommy, watching the proceedings, and then that damned demonic face flashes on the screen again. Skeet blinks a couple more times and there's just Tommy, who reaches inside. "Don't," says Skeet, but Tommy ignores him. Skeet looks above him and sees his blood on the cracked windshield, forming words: "God is now here." He looks back to Tommy, who says, "I hope you feel better soon," as we zoom in on a sputtering Skeet.
And let's not waste any time -- straight to Tommy's funeral, please. Skeet, looking a little skarred but none the worse for wear, sits in the back. He looks over at Kate, who sadly smiles at him. She's totally thinking, "Why didn't he ever call? I really believed him when he said he just had to get up early the morning." Skeet smiles at her, then REMEMBERS HE'S AT A DAMN FUNERAL, for God's sake. Then some plucky guitar music starts up. Skeet looks over his shoulder and sees Tommy standing at the back of the church. They smile at each other. Then they nod. Then they do this little wink-while-shooting pretend-finger-guns thing at each other. It was very sweet. And then Tommy is gone. And Skeet ponders.
And then, the most blatant X-Files scene of the show. Skeet stands before his bosses' desk while the monsignor looks over his report. "You seem very confident in your conclusions," he says. "Very confident, Monsignor," says Skeet. But Monsignor Skinner tosses the report aside, prompting Skeet to ask if they'll be taking any further action. "Skeet, there's no proof here," says the monsignor, who calls it an interesting story but one without photographs or medical documents, et cetera, just eyewitness accounts. "He healed people. I saw it," says Skeet. "He healed me." Monsignor Skinner is unmoved. "I'll be in touch," he says. Skeet ponders this for a moment, then says, "With all due respect, Monsignor, I resign." The monsignor reacts for a brief second but then tries to act like he doesn't care.
So Skeet goes skampering down the stairs, running into Poppy, who gives him a big hug and welcomes him home. Skeet tells him he just quit, startling Poppy. Skeet explains that the monsignor wasn't interested in his report on the kid at all, but Poppy has no idea what Skeet's on about. Skeet's like, you know -- the kid in Arizona you called me about? And Poppy's all, dude, we haven't talked in months! Dun dun dun! Okay, I didn't see that coming.
At a diner, someone has gone to the trouble of playing the ultra-obvious "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," and let's just all be grateful it wasn't the Guns N' Roses version. Skeet ponders. He's ruminating, pondering. Sitting in a booth to him is the dude from the cemetery and the accident scene (played by Angus MacFadyen), openly staring at him. "Tell me about Tommy. Tell me about the blood." And Skeet's all, you were there! And I didn't tell anyone about the blood! Any other supernatural phenomena you left out of your report that might have convinced the monsignor there, Skeet? Angus says he used to do what Skeet does, and he has seen what Skeet's seen. "And more." Ooh. "Who are you?" asks Skeet. "Someone who can help," says Angus. They sit back down. "Now, did you see something in that blood?" and he tells Skeet to write it down on the napkin, which Skeet does. Angus gets a little startled, saying that in the instances he knows of where people have seen sentences forming in blood, they all reported seeing something markedly different. Angus writes it down: "God is nowhere." Nice. Angus says the incidents they've been tracking have been happening all over the world, suggesting that something major is about to go down. And Paul wants to know why God would give Tommy the power to heal only at the expense of his own health, and Angus, who apparently has some anger-management issues, slams his hand down on the table and is all, "What makes you think it was God?" Skeet's all, whoa. Angus starts explaining that he's got a little independent group tracking this stuff, and he wants Paul to work for him. He even gives him a card, with the group's name, Sodalitas Quaerito, and its address. I love it when secret organizations get business cards printed up. Skeet's all, no thanks, and Angus says, well, if you change your mind, I'm the first in line.
Later, Skeet gets out his Latin dictionary to translate sodalitas ("brotherhood") and quaerito ("to seek, search") for us. And he goes to the address on the card, which is a rather steamy building that lists "S. Quaerito" on its lobby directory. He heads up some stairs to a door, which is opened by this knockout who was apparently on General Hospital. He says, "I'm Paul Callan," and she welcomes him in. You know, I wouldn't be entirely sure this was the right place, but I imagine there could be tortured screams coming from that office and most guys would still follow her in.
I miss Monday Night Football.