Well, hellooo. What's this? Rick in his boxers less than ten seconds into the episode? This bodes well. Notice how Rick's gratuitous semi-nudity doesn't irk me like Panty Queen's did in the last episode? Yeah, I'm good with the double standards like that. So Rick saunters half-naked into Lily's kitchen, apparently very much at home, and Lily drops an armload of cracker boxes. He plants a kiss on the side of her head and strolls toward the laundry room. She asks who said he could dress like that. I think "four million hot-blooded Americans" would be a fairly accurate answer. He feigns ignorance. With mock sternness, she orders him to come back and they make kissy faces and smoochy noises as they banter about how early Lily gets up. After a few seconds, Rick sort of glances down and says, "I really shouldn't walk around here like this, should I?" And that, of course, is the cue the girls have been waiting for. They enter, bickering, and Rick makes a desperate grab for a cereal box to hide his hammy javelin. He pretends to study the box label, but I'm pretty sure you can't read with the organ he's holding it in front of, "one-eyed" considerations aside. He shuffles into the laundry room and pulls a pair of trousers from the dryer, exclaiming, "Oh my god!" Zoe is intrigued, and her face registers shock when she sees the Gap khakis. Which are now the very pink Gap khakis. Lily is surprised that they were in the washer. "Well, yeah, I put them in last night," Rick says. Let's think about the implications of this for just a second. He put the pants in the washing machine, and knew to pull them out of the dryer the morning. Yet, he didn't actually run the washing machine; Lily did. He also didn't bother to tell her they were in there -- or ask her, for that matter, whether she'd mind washing them. He just assumed that she'd come along behind him and wash his pants. Which, all gender things aside, bugs me because who runs a washing machine to wash a single pair of pants? ["I thought maybe the point was to highlight the fact that he's used to doing the laundry his way, at his place. Like maybe at his house, when the kids weren't there, he'd come in after work, take off his pants, and throw them directly into the washer, knowing that neither of the kids would be running the washer before he did. And then he unconsciously did the same thing at Lily's without considering that there'd be anyone else doing laundry without knowledge of his pants in the washer. Not that I've given it a lot of thought or anything." -- Wing Chun] Anyway, Zoe pulls a red shirt out of the dryer and helpfully suggests that you're not supposed to wash khakis with colors. Rick asks how he can "make them not pink." Lily giggles that she doesn't think he can. Grace manages a straight face as she asserts that "they're kind of cool." Lily asks what I want to know: "Why'd you put them in the machine in the first place?" Rick purses his lips as if that's a stupid question, but Grace cuts him off before he can answer, joking that the "Atlantor people will appreciate seeing a different side of Rick Sammler." "The pinker side," Zoe chirps. Heh. A few seconds sooner, and they'd have seen the "pinker side" of Sammler, if you know what I'm saying and I think you do. Rick says he's got to get going and waves his pink pants.
Karen's in her office, and so is Jessie. Karen's rifling through files in her desk while Jessie irritates her by throwing crumpled balls of paper at the wastebasket right to Karen's head. They discuss Jessie's appointment at the orthodontist, but they're interrupted by the receptionist, who announces that "Robert Dumanjiak from the district attorney's office" is on the phone for Karen. Karen obviously is not expecting the call. After a second, she tells the receptionist to put him through. He introduces himself, and Karen is puzzled as to why he's calling. He mentions that he knows she's been working on a suit against Atlantor, and says he'd like to "sit down and talk" with her about it. Karen is guarded, not sure what he's after. She's also distracted by Jessie, who tiptoes exaggeratedly around her and then scribbles a note for Karen to read. Karen vigorously shakes her head in response to whatever Jessie asked, and then asks Dumanjiak to be more specific; he just chuckles and evades the question, saying that he'll clear it up when they talk. He suggests meeting the day. Karen turns from Jessie, who's back in the doorway with her wads of paper, and in hushed tones asks whether she should expect a subpoena. He quickly assures her that it's nothing like that, just as Jessie pegs Karen with a paper ball. She tosses another one, and Karen impatiently waves her hand for Jessie to stop. Seriously, is Jessie suddenly four? Can't she figure out that a call from the D.A.'s office is probably pretty serious and most definitely professional? ["I'm four also. I often try to distract Glark when he's on the phone with clients, but I'm not so good with the throwing so I usually just poke him instead." -- Wing Chun] She stops, but makes a disappointed face at Karen. Karen, meanwhile, hammers out the particulars of when and where to meet. She hangs up, and Jessie asks what the call meant. "I'm trying to figure that out myself," Karen says, her brow furrowed, as the Chords of Impending Drama strike up a little ambience.
Rick, meanwhile, is holding court with his associates, who are gathered around the Atlantor model. He's wearing the pink pants. Don't think they haven't noticed. They banter and toss out a few pink jokes, and slate jokes, and pink slate jokes, and we get that they're just one happy little family and that none of them missed their true calling in stand-up. ["None of them misses David, either, apparently." -- Wing Chun] Rick fakes exasperation as the phone rings, and -- hellooo. No, Rick's kept his pants on this time. I'm just appreciating the very hot male associate who answers the phone. More of him, please. In boxers, if possible. Whoever's on the phone informs Rick that Miles is there. "I thought I smelled sulfur," one of the associates murmurs. Heh. Miles, flanked by his flunkies, sweeps in and says he needs a word with Rick, "sooner than later." The associates give Rick a knowing glance before scattering. Rick asks how Miles's vacation was, and Miles spouts off about how the "success" of a vacation can "only be measured by the level of one's discomfort upon returning." He proclaims this as though no one had ever realized it before. He says that his vacation was an unqualified success. I'm waiting for him to comment on Rick's pants as he strolls past him to the other side of the model. He doesn't. He just hunkers down between the tiny skyscrapers and asks, apropos of nothing, "Do you believe in portents, Rick? How's your filing system here?" Rick steps closer, and leans in to whisper with him. Miles says, "You don't keep a lot of old, useless papers around, do you? I have found shredders to be quite useful in eliminating clutter." Rick is growing alarmed. He asks what Miles is talking about, what's happening. Miles paces a few steps, unfazed, and mildly asks, "Did I say something was happening?" He shiftily looks around and continues, "If I knew something was happening, and I told you, then I might be seen to be conspiring with you, which of course, I never would." Rick, standing behind him, lapses into his guppy face and blinks a lot. "Conspiring with me? About what?" he hisses. "Conspiring with you? About what?" Miles echoes, feigning innocence. He slips away like grease through a fist. Rick whispers, "Are you trying to scare the bejeesus out of me?" Hey, watch the language, man. Miles answers, "Hard drives are particularly vexing when it's time for spring cleaning, though I've heard there's software available for that purpose." Rick asks again what is happening. Miles looks at him blankly, smiles, and says, "I'm off to a lunch now." Very loudly, he says, "I just thought I'd stop by, and say hello, and let you know that I'm thinking of you." In Miles's mouth, these innocuous little Hallmark-y words become creepy as hell. Rick stares after him from between the skyscrapers, looking distressed.