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This week, Our Intrepid Heroes land in Little Rock, Arkansas, where the boys fake a robbery at the local natural history museum in order to get themselves slung into the county jail. Ever since the local authorities reopened the old wing of the place, you see, there's been a rash of grisly murders that have been taking out guards and inmates alike, and El Deano -- thanks to a tip from a mysterious friend of their father's named Deacon -- is certain that something hellish is responsible. Of course he's right, and after he and Darling Sammy get fitted for a pair of absolutely cunning jumpsuits in a winning shade of prison orange, the wacky penitentiary shenanigans begin, with Dean playing poker for cigarettes when he's not getting himself into brawls that incur the wrath of a particularly foul-tempered guard. Oh, sorry -- I meant to say "carefully orchestrated brawls that incur the apparent wrath of what we're meant to believe is a particularly foul-tempered guard," because the guard is actually Deacon himself, and he's already arranged for their escape from the clink once the demonic beastie's been dispatched. And what about that demonic beastie? Well, at first they believe it's the unquiet spirit of an inmate beaten to death about thirty years ago by some rogue guards, but after Dean survives a close encounter with the actual monster thanks to a handy plastic shaker of salt, they learn they're really up against the unquiet spirit of one Nurse Glockner, a notorious Annie Wilkes type whose reign of murderous terror in the prison's infirmary ended only when she got her skull bashed in during a riot. So, after desecrating the miserable wretch's grave and salting and burning her remains, Our Intrepid Heroes motor on off toward their adventure. One problem: Special Agent Henriksen's back, and he is pissed. Yep, their insane little FBI friend from "Night Shifter" hustled on down to Arkansas as soon as he heard the boys were in jail, and he would have extradited their tantalizing asses to Wisconsin had El Deano not been able to charm his public defender into offering the special agent some very misleading information indeed. Will the once-again thwarted G-man return before the end of the season? God, I hope so, if only so The Ceiling Demon can fry his ass for so badly cocking up the job he'd been sent from Hell to accomplish in the first place. Because you know Henriksen is working for Satan. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Crackle, Crackle THEN! Darling Sammy would like to remind you all that it was not he appearing as a bank robber on the eleven o'clock news, but rather El Deano. Thanks for that, Sam. During the spectacular episode in question, we were introduced to Special Agent Victor Henriksen of the FBI, who was tasked by his superiors with bringing in Our Intrepid Heroes. As you'll recall, capturing the boys alive would have been a bonus for him, but not strictly necessary, as Henriksen was simply brimming with false information regarding Dean's supposed rampage in St. Louis, along with the "disappearing act" the guys pulled in Baltimore, on top of all the many, many grave desecrations and thefts over the years. And at the end of it all, El Deano realized, "We are so screwed." YEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Crackle, Crackle NOW! We fade up on the barbed-wire-topped chain link surrounding the exercise yard of what the just-arriving location card tells us is the "Green River County Detention Center." We trundle through a brief montage of basketball- and card-playing prisoners overseen by various stone-faced guards before heading indoors to track down a long corridor whose apparent disuse is confirmed by one of the two gentlemen now rounding the far corner. "Oh, this makes a lot of sense," he scoffs. "First they close down the cellblock, and now they open it back up again? There's your tax dollars at work, huh?" The two gentlemen approach an ironworker who's been diligently cutting through a rusted door with an acetylene torch this entire time, and arrive at the masked ironworker's side just as he slices through the last remaining bolt holding the thing shut. After a bit of strenuous grunting and tugging, the lead hardhat pulls the door open, and he and his partner enter the long-abandoned and windowless cell to train their flashlights on the bits of ruin within. "Yikes!" the lead hardhat eyebrows. "Would-a hate to gotten thrown in here." That made more sense coming out of his mouth than it does typed out. Trust me. As some unearthly entity exhales in tones that only those of us in the audience can hear, the lead hardhat suddenly realizes he can see his breath streaming out in front of his face, and he even tilts his flashlight's beam up to capture it. "Do you feel that?" he asks of his companion, referring, one would assume, to the unexpected drop in temperature. His companion, who is being paid at a far lower rate for his participation in this sequence, remains silent. Suddenly, the unearthly and unseen entity swoops past the lead hardhat and shoots down the hallway outside, scattering a few stray sheets of the renovation plans off a work table as it goes. DUN!
Elsewhere, in a currently occupied wing of the facility, the camera tracks low across various sets of bars until it cross-fades to arrive inside one particular cell. An institutional-grade electric clock loudly ticks away the seconds in the background as the orange-jumpsuited inmate within pages through a paperback whose title is obscured. The camera eventually pans up on his face, and it's Jeff Kober, a Hey! It's That Guy! who specializes in portrayals of the criminal element, likely due to the fact that he's been blessed with a face that looks like it was slammed in a cell door one too many times. Barely are we able to register Jeff's delight with what he's reading before the lights in both his cell and the corridor outside begin to buzz and blink and flicker on and off. Uh-oh. Jeff rises from his bunk to investigate, and as he presses his face against the small, barred square in his door to peer out into the hallway, the institutional-grade electric clock ominously slows in its raucous ticking until the second hand grinds to a complete stop. DUN! Again! Some more! As Jeff squints in puzzlement up at the clock, a blur of ghastly grey shoots past his face to continue down the hall. Jeff, hitching his breath in a rapidly increasing panic, latches onto his door's bars and starts shouting up at the security camera suspended from the ceiling. "Hey, guard!"
The shot cuts quickly over to the guard's station, where the quadrant occupied by Jeff's camera on the monitor starts buzzing and blinking and flickering on and off. The goateed guard in charge of B Block this evening at long last looks up from his dinner to notice the screwed-up video feed, and leans over to adjust the volume so we might all hear Jeff's increasingly anxious cries for help. The guard rolls his eyes, informs...whomever via the two-way radio clipped to his shoulder that he's heading off to deal with "Randall, again," and wearily shoves himself to his feet.
Back down on B Block, Randall keeps shouting for help above the angry howls for silence coming from his fellow inmates in the other cells until The Goatee slams his nightstick against the bars on Randall's door, nearly smashing Randall's fingers in the process. "Cool it," growls The Goatee. "Cool it, my ass," Randall snaps back. "There's somebody out there." The Goatee's having none of it and orders Randall back to his bunk immediately. Randall, who's clearly dealt with this particularly unpleasant guard before and who's clearly not in the mood to deal with him again, stifles his reservations and protestations to obey. The moment Randall's down, The Goatee mutters an order into his radio for lights-out in the B Block corridor. Once his partner in the booth has complied, The Goatee offers the inmates a rather snottily toned, "Good night, ladies!" and heads for the exit. As the camera tracks around his head, following his progress, a rat's nest of scraggly grey hair suddenly appears in the frame behind him. The Goatee, oblivious, continues on his way for a moment, then, sensing something, pauses and turns to discover...an empty corridor! The Goatee shrugs off his momentary unease and is halfway through the block's exit gate when his breath unexpectedly streams out in front of his face from his mouth. He turns to glance behind himself once again, still halfway through that gate, and it's then that the unearthly and unseen entity slams the gate shut on The Goatee's arm with nearly enough force to take the damn thing off at the shoulder. As it is, though, The Goatee's caught like a rat in a trap, and as the inmates down the block grow audibly restless above The Goatee's howls of anguish, the camera swings around to The Entity's perspective to advance upon its victim. And while we never see The Entity during this sequence, it's now most certainly visible to The Goatee, whose screams increase in volume and intensity as he ever more frantically attempts to free himself from the gate, and as The Goatee's wails echo through the cell block, the camera tracks down the wall to land on Randall's face as he vainly attempts to see what's going on. And just as The Goatee's howls crescendo, everything falls into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
A short time later, we've finally hit the cafeteria, and after a schticky bit involving Sam's distaste for prison fare, the boys get down to business. Suspect number one in tonight's ghost hunt happens to be one "Mark Moody," a "psycho killer extraordinaire" and fun-loving Libra whose hobbies included Satanism, ritual murder, and dying in jail. Aside from all of that, he also died of heart failure, which is the same affliction that claimed the recent victims, and he kicked it in the old cell block, which as you'll recall was just reopened after thirty years of disuse that began shortly after Moody keeled over in his cell. "What if he was already cremated?" Sam wonders. Dean supposes that if that's the case, then there's some sort of personal item in the old cell block that trapped Moody's spirit there until the wing's renovation released its unquiet ass to wreak havoc in the main jail, and don't you think they should have covered all of this before they got themselves arrested? You know, maybe in the car on the very long drive from California to Arkansas? Oh, whatever. It matters not, for Dean, thoroughly done with his lunch, now slams down his fork to get himself into a little unintentional mischief -- or is it?
As Sam rises to follow Dean out of the cafeteria, he foolishly spins his head back to make sure they didn't leave anything at the table, in the process accidentally ramming his ginormous form into a graying fireplug of a hardcase I might as well just go ahead and name Mad Dog for the recap. Darling, doomed-in-prison Sam attempts to apologize, but Mad Dog just blows a lot of attitude, so El Deano gallantly steps up to defend Darling Sam's honor. "You talkin' to me?" Mad Dog threatens. "Great," Dean mutters to himself, "another guy who's seen Taxi Driver too many times." "Yeah," he continues, lifting his eyes to meet Mad Dog's in a challenge, "I'm talking to you, and trust me: let it go." Mad Dog appears to back down, and Dean turns to Sam to gloat over his superior inmate management skills, but before he's through his first sentence, Mad Dog's returned with one of his henchlings who, unfortunately for Our Intrepid Heroes, is even larger than The Ginormotron's improbably gargantuan cellmate. Li'l Stumpy bravely soldiers on nevertheless because Samsucksat the hand-to-hand, and is soon kicking the crap out of Mad Dog, who presently finds himself flat on his back clutching at various body parts after El Deano kicks him in the groin and then knees him in the skull once Mad Dog's doubled over in pain from the initial blow. Barging in on all of the fun are two guards, the more prominent of whom is played by a Canadian character actor named Garwin Sanford, who's been in everything you've never seen that ever filmed north of the border in the last twenty years. (And The Accused, but only as one of the reporters in the courthouse scrum, so whatever.) I must admit, it's terrific casting, because he looks like the sort of capital-P Puritan who'd be the hard-ass guard nightmare of every prisoner, ever.
In any event, after ordering Mad Dog to haul his sorry ass from the floor, Thomas Danforth here menaces his way up to loom over Li'l Stumpy and shove his nightstick into the underside of Dean's chin, forcing Dean's head backwards. "What's your name?" he ices. "Winchester," Dean grimaces. "Well, Winchester," Thomas Danforth grits, "not a good start." With that, he orders both Dean and Mad Dog into solitary for the remainder of the day. Sam responds to Dean's forced jocularity with yet another tremendous bitchface as a couple of guards wrestle Dean out of the cafeteria. He then turns to find Mad Dog's henchling making a slicing motion across his throat in Sam's direction. Darling Sammy heaves a beleaguered sigh, all, "You know, it'd probably be easier if I just became someone's bitch already."
Solitary. From the depths of his cell, Dean calls out, "I wish I had a baseball," to Mad Dog across the way. "You know," he continues, poking his face into the slot in the door to catch Mad Dog's eye, "like Steve McQueen?" "Yeah?" Mad Dog replies, completely not getting either reference, the latter because he is a fake person on the actual television show in question, and the former because he is a moron. "Well, I wish I had a bat, so I could bash your frickin' head in!" "Oooo-kay," Dean eyebrows as he eases himself back against the wall. "So much for the 'bonding in solitary' moment." He remains there in silence for all of a second before the lights in his cell start buzzing and blinking and flickering on and off as the ticking of the institutional-grade electric clock suddenly grows louder. Dean tensely exhales, and as soon as he sees his breath streaming from his mouth, he mutters, "Oh, crap." He crawls back over to the slot in the door just in time to catch the clock's second hand grinding to a stop and, instantly understanding exactly what's going on, he calls out, "Lucas! Listen to me! Stay very still!" Mad Dog ignores him, because Dean got his name wrong, and instead shoves his face into the slot of his own door to scan what little he can see of the corridor until...a gruesome set of demonically bloodshot eyes pops right into his frame of vision! Mad Dog reels backwards towards the far wall of his cell, but he's not halfway across the floor when some grey and decaying hand wraps itself around his mouth from behind and yanks, spinning Mad Dog around to face the demonically bloodshot eyes that are now glassily glaring at him inside the cell itself. Some unseen forces seizes him by the throat, and thick, bitterly black veins crawl across his face to throb as he opens his mouth and screams. The camera leaps across the corridor to capture Dean's increasingly frantic expression until the METAL TEETH CHOMP! barges in to gobble everything up.
After the break, Mara arrives at Henriksen and Reidy's temporary office in the Little Rock police headquarters and attempts to discuss the many "inconsistencies" she's found in Our Intrepid Heroes' case. For instance, was Henriksen aware that a police detective in Baltimore swears that the boys not only saved her life, but also helped capture a murderer? Was Henriksen further aware that one of the victims of the Milwaukee hostage situation also swears the boys saved her life as well? Henriksen is aware of all that, thank you very much, but as Henriksen doesn't have time to listen to the babblings of crazy people, Henriksen would be most appreciative if Mara took her pretty little face and her wacky little bits of testimony somewhere far away from his temporary office in the Little Rock police headquarters, because the "grownups are trying to get some work done here." Mara, appalled at Henriksen's caddish behavior, clutches her nonexistent pearls and exits.
The Clink. Sam and Randall -- remember him? The guy from the pre-credits sequence? Yeah, neither did I -- mop a bathroom floor. Insert your own reference to the circumstances surrounding Jeffrey Dahmer's most deserved demise here. Or, actually, you can sort of wait until Supernatural inserts that reference for you. After some awkward icebreaking on Sam's part, they strike up a casual enough conversation in which Sam learns that Randall was the primary inmate present the night The Goatee died. Randall's awfully cagey about the details, though, but he does inadvertently let slip that he was a "regular customer" over in the older cell block back in the day, and Sam learns to his barely concealed amazement that Randall was also present the night Mark Moody died over thirty years ago. "It was a heart attack, right?" Sam asks. "Sure," Randall wryly replies. "His heart stopped right after a guard stopped using his head for batting practice." See? Remove "guard" from that sentence and insert "fellow inmate infuriated that Dahmer basically got away with butchering and cannibalizing over twenty-five blacks, Latinos, and Asians," and you've got the story of dear little Jeffy's rather just end. In any event, Randall's not done with the reminiscing: "morning I was in his cell, mopping up the blood? What a mess." You know, I think I've been staring at the screen for too long, because I'm starting to pick up this eerie resemblance between Jeff Kober and Jared Padalecki. A casting director could do worse than to toss these two guys into a movie as father and son. I think it's the hair. In any event, Sam's gigantic brain lingers on the mess Moody left behind and, mindful of Dean's earlier assurance that something of Moody's must have tethered his unquiet spirit to the old cell block, leads him rather craftily to inquire, "Exactly how much blood was there?"
Back in the cafeteria, the boys process this new information, and they quickly realize that the death of the guard earlier means that Nurse Glockner's unquiet spirit's going after everyone it deems worthy of death, regardless of rank or station, up to and including El Deano. What they still can't figure out are the ghost's connection to the old cell block and how to get rid of it. After a bit of fretting over their severely diminished timetable for seeing this case through to its end, Dean decides to chat with their lawyer.
And by "chat with," I mean "all but charm that saucy little pantsuit off of," for that's exactly what he does in the scene, mainly by flexing his guns at her as they gab at each other on handsets from either side of a sheet of bulletproof glass in the visitors' area. Yum. About Dean's guns, I mean. I couldn't give a rat's ass about the handsets or the bulletproof glass or the visitors' area. Anyway, Mara's incredulous and outraged when she discovers Dean summoned her to the lockup simply to ask her to unearth everything she can on Nurse Glockner, but suave El Deano somehow manages to convince her that he and Darling Sammy aren't the bad guys Special Agent Henriksen would have her believe, and further convinces her to find out the circumstances of Nurse Glockner's death and the disposition of her remains. Again, mainly by flexing his guns at her, but he also deploys those big, beautiful doe eyes of his to wondrous effect as well. Sigh. He's so dreamy!
Out in the yard, Our Intrepid Heroes engage in a tense little debate over Mara's willingness to help and Sam's unwillingness to remain in jail another day that quickly escalates into a shoving match that just as quickly gets broken up by the guards, foremost amongst them our buddy Danforth who, with a colleague, cuffs and drags the boys into the prison's shower room. How...rapey of him. Once there, Danforth pulls his colleague aside to growl, "Take off. I want to handle this alone," if you know what he means, and I think you do, and I'm suddenly having horrible flashbacks to a movie called Crimes Of Passion in which Kathleen Turner did things with a nightstick that I'm certain are still illegal in at least forty-three states -- and did them to a cop, no less. "i remember that! he was quite the tasty treat, wasn't he?!" Quiet, you pervert! "hmmmph!" Now, where was I? Oh, yeah: The colleague meekly agrees, and after he's gone, Danforth steps forward to get all up in Our Dear Boys' collective grille, whereupon he then...gifts them with an open and winning smile before clapping Dean affably on the cheek? It all becomes clear when Dean responds by sighing, "Deacon, you are beating the holy hell out of me, man." D'oh! I totally did not see that one coming at all. I mean, I knew the guard had to be toast in the teaser because they'd never hire Jeff Kober for an episode, only to kill him off in the first three minutes, and I knew the unquiet spirit of Mike Moody wasn't responsible for the recent spate of suspicious deaths the minute Sam stepped into a cell that had a window in it, but this little twist? No frigging clue. Bravo, Supernatural. Bravo.
In any event, Deacon jokes that he thought he was going easy on El Deano as he uncuffs the two, then reminds Dean to make the impending escape look as real as possible. One problem, of course: The unquiet spirit of Nurse Glockner's actually responsible for the recent goings-on at the county correctional facility, and the boys have yet to receive all the "intel" they need to dust her Satanic ass. This of course leads to yet another heated debate between the brothers about leaving with the job undone or remaining to see it through despite the risk they run of extradition to Milwaukee in the company of Special Agent Henriksen, but quite fortunately for all of us, Deacon cuts through the crap to present Dean with an envelope he's just received from their public defender. "Will you look at that?" Dean chuckles, accepting the envelope from Deacon. "Man, I am friggin' velvety smooth!" Sam's bitchface remains tremendous. Hee. Dean slits open the message and finds a sheaf of documentation related to Nurse Glockner's untimely demise. Seems the remaining inmates in the old cell block rioted shortly after Mark Moody's guard-induced death, and one of them dragged the homicidal nurse into one of the solitary cells, where he beat her brains out against the wall. Even better? Mara's uncovered Nurse Glockner's final resting place. "All-righty, then," Deacon perks. "Let's get you the hell out of here." First, though, we have to endure a bit of annoying dialogue in which Deacon compliments Daddy Shut Up on his obviously fine parenting skills -- like, you can tell this guy never watched the end of Season One -- and then, after Deacon removes a panel in the wall that will allow both of Our Intrepid Heroes no matter how freakishly ginormous their size to shimmy through the air ducts to freedom, El Deano, keepin' it real as far as the escape goes, slugs Deacon straight into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
The shower room was apparently below street level, for when we see Our Intrepid Heroes, they're climbing up an exterior ladder from the basement to find Metallicar waiting for them on the asphalt. However, no sooner have they opened the car's doors when alarms start going off throughout the prison complex, so rather than stripping out of their orange jumpsuits right there for the benefit of so many in the audience, Our Dear Boys must immediately hop into the Impala and peel off for the cemetery.
And in a series of events that exist simply to offer the boys a plausible amount of time in which to desecrate Nurse Glockner's grave, Henriksen and his partner first waste copious amounts of time interrogating Deacon on the escape, then waste even more time attempting to browbeat Mara into breaking the attorney-client privilege.
Meanwhile, we arrive at the appropriate cemetery just in time to catch Sam and Dean pulling on the last of their regular clothes, because The Kripkeeper is an evil bastard who hates us all. The boys then retrieve the appropriate implements of grave destruction from the Impala's trunk and, again with copious amounts of flashlight-fu, trundle through the graveyard in search of Nurse Glockner's marker, all the while extremely aware of how little time they have before Henriksen and his band of merry g-men descend to extradite their tantalizing asses to The Land Of Cheese. Or something like that.
Back at Little Rock police headquarters, Henriksen gets really, really LOUD, so Mara shreds the entire concept of due process and whatnot and admits that Dean asked her to investigate the death and burial place of a prison nurse who died in 1976. Henriksen confirms both that Mara acquired the information requested and that Mara passed said information along to the boys. Henriksen then gets all up in her face and snarls, "Tell me."
Mara apparently caves completely, for the thing we know, Henriksen's plowing through the gates of Mountainside Cemetery with an entire SWAT team in tow. That's a measured response.
Over atop Nurse Wretched's grave, Dean pulls flashlight duty this week while Darling Sammy works on those already remarkably broad shoulders of his down in the dirt. By the way: "Dolores," "1934-1976." You can thank me later.
Elsewhere, the SWAT team hits the ground running.
Grave. Darling Sammy finally hits bottom. "Got her," he pants up at Dean.
The Pokey. Deacon splashes some water on his face in the gents'. Behind him, the second hand on the clock grinds to a halt. DUN! As the lights above begin to buzz and flicker on and off, Deacon starts, then widens his eyes when he realizes he can see his breath. He spins to bolt for the door and...nearly slams straight into Nurse Wretched! As Nurse Wretched unhinges her lower jaw to unleash a hissing growl directly into his face, Deacon staggers backwards right into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Nurse Wretched snaps her head, unleashing a burst of telekinetic energy that sends Deacon flying backwards through the air until he crashes to the floor. Meanwhile, Henriksen and the SWAT team scurry in between the headstones while Sam salts Nurse Wretched's earthly remains. As Nurse Wretched herself leaps atop Deacon to press her right hand against his chest, Dean douses her corpse with gasoline. "You let thossse two go!" Nurse Wretched hisses as Deacon's body involuntarily arches up into the air, jerking as his heartbeat slows to a crawl. Sam, under the light of a full moon, fires up a match. Deacon shudders and gasps. Nurse Wretched's remains go up in flames. Bulging, bitter-black veins race across Deacon's face until Nurse Wretched reels back and...oh, Christ. It's another goddamned Charmed vanquish. Oy. So, Nurse Wretched howls and wails and blazes her merry way on down to The Waste Land, or wherever the hell it is the vanquished demons are sent now that The Colethazor's destroyed that skinny little power-sucking Jenny Craig worm, and as soon as she's vanished, Deacon hacks his way back to health on the floor of the gents' in The Green River County Detention Center. As the opening guitar lines of Alice In Chains's "Rooster" hit the soundtrack, Sam and Dean gaze down into the flames consuming Nurse Wretched's remains while elsewhere, Henriksen and the SWATs hit the end of Mountainside Cemetery, having found absolutely nothing. "You sure this is the right damn cemetery?" Henriksen barks at his partner. "She said, 'Mountainside,'" Reidy confirms. "'Mountainside Cemetery.'" Henriksen gapes.
Over at Green Valley Cemetery, Our Intrepid Heroes scamper over the graves towards Metallicar.
Meanwhile, Mara exits the criminal courts building and heads over to her car. At the last moment, right before she disappears into the driver's seat, she lets a delighted little grin spread across her face. Because Mara is awesome.
And just as the ironically deceased Layne Staley growls, "Ain't found a way to kill me yet," Henriksen realizes he's been had.
Back at Green Valley, Sam and Dean sling their implements of grave destruction into the Impala's trunk and head towards the front of the car. "Thought we were screwed before?" Sam asks rhetorically as he approaches the passenger door. "Yeah, I know," Dean agrees. "We gotta go deep this time." "'Deep'?" Sam repeats with a hint of incredulousness and the beginnings of an absolutely stupendous bitchface. "We should go to Yemen." "Not sure I'm ready to go that deep," Dean grins, ever the happy-go-lucky sonofabitch. God love him. "and sammy, too!" the grievously hoarse Raoul reminds me, breaking his silence for a very good reason. "rare is it that such an otherwise lovely young man can unleash such an effective bitchface upon the unsuspecting world!" You speak the truth, my scaly friend. You speak the truth. And as the ironically deceased Layne Staley hurls himself into the bit about snuffing the rooster, the boys climb into the Impala, and Dean guns the engine to peel off into the final fade to black.
week, a frigging genie grants Dean's greatest wish, so we know that the world will initially seem to be a much better place for him until something happens that reveals the true, ugly foulness beneath the shiny, happy surface of things, but whatever. It's still going to kick ass. "Absolutely!" Raoul! Voice! "...sorry!!" Aw. You know I have only your best interests at heart, my dear. In any event, see you all then!