You were in a car accident.
(tires squealing)
Brian has sustained some pretty serious injuries.
Finn needs a father.
I want you in his life.
Jack, he's in bad shape.
It seems like he's gonna have to live with me for a while.
There's something I didn't come clean about before.
At the cabin, uh,
Kim pulled a gun on me.
I was able to talk her down, and, you know,
we started seeing each other after that.
Turns out that gun was used in an armed robbery
in New Jersey where Kim was ID'd as the getaway driver.
Why can't you just let this go?
We need to talk.
Kim? Put the gun down.
Martin, tell him to back off.
Kim, please put the gun down.
Back off!
(chattering and laughter)
(bottles clinking)
Can I help you?
Uh, yeah, a club soda, please.
You sure about that?
Yeah.
Look like you missed your train stop.
I'm fine.
(laughter and chattering)
Relax. It's just me.
You're late.
Uh, I'm sorry.
I-I... I hadn't been down to this part of town.
So, you, uh... you got something for me?
I want more money.
What?
No, no. We... We had a deal.
Mm-hmm. That's before I knew how desperate you are,
which makes me think you'll pay double.
Fine.
Oh, easy, easy.
Not here.
Outside.
SAMANTHA: Okay, lean back.
(Brian grunts)
You good? Yeah.
All right, okay, here we go.
Let me get this.
Gentle.
And here, and then
put this here, and...
I think it needs to be tighter.
Okay.
Oh.
I don't want to hurt you.
(laughing) You won't.
Okay. Ow!
Oh, my God!
(laughs) Not funny. No.
That is not funny.
Then just don't hit me with a hammer.
I'll be fine. Okay, how's that?
Good. All right, here we go.
(beep)
So, um, what's on your agenda today?
I don't know. A three-hour documentary on bees.
Oh. Yeah.
Museum is putting it out next month.
I got to write a release on it.
You know, you're not supposed to do anything taxing.
They're bees.
True.
(beep) Okay.
Hmm?
Great. Great.
So, Maricella...
Sorry.
...took Finn to the park.
She's gonna check on you as soon as she gets back, okay?
I'm good. Go to work.
All right. I'm sorry. I'm late.
Here, look-- this remote, these.
You're good? Yeah.
All right.
Sam? Yeah?
Thanks.
You're welcome.
Who's the face?
Molly Samson.
27, celebrity gossip columnist
for a Web site called Newspatroller.com.
Hmm.
It's a respected news site.
Has some political weight.
Who called it in?
Her sister.
When was she last seen?
Four nights ago at a dive in Astoria.
She took a cab, paid with her credit card.
Bartender said
that he saw her give a man a wad of cash.
Maybe she was buying some juicy new gossip.
Or scoring an eight ball.
So, this time, she may be part of the scandal.
This report is a thing of beauty.
The only thing that would have been better
is if you had come in here and told me the truth
in the first place.
And where is the lovely Miss Marcus now?
She's in custody,
uh, recovering from a minor gunshot wound.
Jack, can I say,
I really believe
that Martin was justified
in discharging his weapon?
Right now, I am focusing on the events
that led up to that...
and the fact
that you had a relationship with a suspected felon.
Once I realized that she was tied
to the robberies, I started to investigate.
You went to him instead of coming to me.
You have anything to add to this?
No. It's... It's all there.
Then get out.
Okay.
(sighs)
What the hell
is wrong with you?
You let an armed assailant
hold you at gunpoint,
and then you set her free.
You then proceeded
to conduct a relationship with her, knowing
that the gun she used was involved in a murder.
Even if I wanted to,
there is no way that I can bury this.
I understand that, and I'm...
and I'm ready to deal with the consequences.
Well, there are going to be consequences,
and plenty of them.
So why don't you go outside
and think about why you did what you did.
And I will sit in here
and think about ways of preserving your damn job.
Okay.
Hey. Hey.
How'd it go at Molly's apartment?
It was clean.
You know, no drugs, no pipes, no needles...
She did have a beautiful
autographed photo of herself with Brangelina.
Ah... well, this girl's not just about glitz.
Newspatroller hired her straight out of college,
where she majored in journalism.
And recently,
they promoted her to political exposés.
Has she made any enemies?
Well, look at this.
The New York State Assembly is in the spotlight today
after one of its members became the subject
of an online news scandal.
In an article published by Newspatroller.com,
ANCHORMAN: Assemblyman Raymond Walsh is being accused of drug use
and misuse of state funds for gambling and prostitution.
Ouch. You know, that type of story could end your career.
Do you think he went after Molly?
Well, he was certainly angry enough.
Check this out.
(rewinding)
I promise you here, today,
that I will make sure
that the whole truth comes out.
And that Molly Samson
pays for her reckless cruelty.
Okay, thank you.
Have we talked to this guy yet?
I'm just about to.
I don't know who that is,
and I can't imagine Molly hanging out in some seedy bar.
Okay, when was the last time you saw her?
The night before that.
And what about the assemblyman?
Did your sister ever talk about him?
Pretty much the whole month she was writing that article.
Right. Okay, what about after it posted?
Not so much.
I think all the attention was stressing her out.
Are you sure this is cool?
Of course.
It's just been so slow at the store.
I feel pathetic having you pay off my student loan.
Don't worry about it, Cay.
I'm the cliché little sister
that keeps coming back for help.
You know, I said it's fine, okay?!
I'm sorry.
It's just work stuff.
I thought work was great.
Molly, you've been dreaming of being
a reporter since you were, like, 12.
You're making your mark with this article on Walsh.
(cork pops)
Yeah, well... the problem with getting your dream
is now people can take it away from you.
What's going on with you?
Nothing.
Don't worry about it.
She's always so together, you know?
It was scary seeing her like that.
Do you know if she had any threats?
Not that she told me.
But she didn't want to go home that night.
And the next morning,
she left in such a rush, she forgot some work stuff.
Would you mind if I took a look at that?
No, I'll go get it.
Okay, thanks.
FBI, open up.
Mrs. Walsh? Yes?
I'm Special Agent Johnson with the FBI.
This is Special Agent Malone.
We'd like to speak to your husband, please.
What for? It's about
Molly Samson.
She disappeared a few days ago.
You know, she's that journalist that wrote that article...
I know who she is.
But I have no idea where she is.
Where's your husband right now?
Why would he know anything about her?
WALSH: Honey...
What is going on? Hello.
Hi. Special Agent Malone from the FBI.
Special Agent Johnson.
I wanted to ask you, uh, a few questions
about the disappearance of Molly Samson.
No. No, look, my lawyer told your office
he'd be handling this, all right?
Get off my property.
Well, can you at least tell us whether you've seen her?
Of course I can't tell you if I've seen her, you idiot.
Look, I want nothing to do with that woman
till I see her in court. Then why are you
acting like you've got her body in the basement?
Okay, look, until you have a document that orders me
to let you be here,
stay the hell away from my house.
You know, it's really funny.
I think I hear screaming coming from inside the house.
Excuse me?
VIVIAN: Okay, we're leaving now.
Good.
Mm-hmm.
I will be calling your boss about this.
Yeah, get in line.
She worked for me
for me two years before I promoted her off the celeb desk.
And how did she get the story on the assemblyman?
Oh, she chased it.
There were rumors that he was dirty,
so Molly worked for weeks to crack it.
She even went to Albany a few times on her own dime.
You think she had something personal against him?
No, I think she just saw her big break
and did what she had to to get it.
Right.
So, has she had any run-ins with Assemblyman Walsh
since you posted her story?
Not that I know of, uh,
but he has filed a lawsuit against us.
Right, I saw that here.
Is that why you called Molly
13 times in the last three days?
Not exactly.
Then why exactly?
Look... I like Molly.
She's bright. She's driven.
The lawsuit I expected, but
not the way she reacted to it.
Hey, Molly!
What's up?
Walsh's lawyer called.
Claims he's got a list
of inconsistencies in your source's timeline.
What?
Are you serious? He says
he's got credit card statements
that put Walsh in Albany
the night you've him with hookers in Atlantic City.
No, that's ridiculous.
He's bluffing. Well, be that as it may,
I'm still going to need to talk to your source.
Look, everybody knows that Walsh is dirty.
That's not the point.
We're getting sued for libel.
If we can't back up your story, we're in trouble.
My source has the right to stay anonymous.
Not if a judge says otherwise.
Look, maybe on the celeb desk,
it was okay to cut corners,
but you've got to be accountable for everything you write now.
Yeah, I know, Evan.
Then what's the problem?
Nothing.
I'll figure it out. You've got
till tomorrow to get me your source, all right?
Yeah.
I keep seeing it with these kids.
I mean, they grew up getting their news
from a million unverified sources online.
They think it's okay
to cobble the truth together.
You're saying she doesn't have a source?
I sure as hell hope she does.
A lawsuit like this could sink us.
There's no way that Molly would have lied.
That's just Walsh trying to discredit her.
Well, do you, uh... do you know who her source is?
No. She never talked about that.
So how do you know she didn't lie?
(phone rings) Sorry.
Hello?
Cay... Molly?!
Is that you?
I think they found me. What?
You need to come and get me.
Molly, what are you talking about?
Give it to me. What?
Molly? Hi, this is Samantha Spade.
I'm with the FBI. We've been looking for you.
(moaning)
I think that they poisoned me.
All right, Molly, I need you to tell me where you are, okay?
They... they poisoned me.
Molly, listen to me, all right? I want you to focus
and try to tell me where you are.
(moans, cries)
No... no!
No, please don't! Please don't! Molly?
(line disconnects) Molly?!
Hey, did we trace Molly's call? Yes, to a cell phone
at the Druckmann Behavioral Clinic.
She checked herself in three days ago.
Is she okay? They don't know.
They can't find her.
MARTIN: What do you mean, you can't find her?
How do you lose a patient?
We have a hundred beds, and we're at full capacity.
Most patients get discharged and replaced
within 48 hours of intake.
It's a lot to keep track of.
It's a secured facility, isn't it? Not all of it.
If this patient wanted to leave the premises, she could have.
Ms. Gomez, Molly Samson could barely talk on the phone.
She said someone poisoned her,
and one of our agents heard someone coming after her.
It's not unusual for agitated patients to need
restraining, Agent Fitzgerald. Okay, listen, I understand that,
but it still doesn't explain why she's missing.
This is not a prison. We're not wardens.
Okay, we are getting a warrant to search these premises.
In the meantime, I would like a head count of the patients;
I need the security footage
for the past 48 hours; and I'll need the name of her doctor.
I'll get right on it.
Thank you.
She seemed stable when I checked on her last night. Yeah, well,
that's not how she sounded when I talked to her.
Did she have any altercations with anyone here?
Not that I'm aware of.
Okay, was she on any meds
that might impair her speech, make her paranoid?
No.
How would you account for the phone call
and the fact that she's missing?
I can't.
You don't run a very tight ship here, do you?
What's that supposed to mean?
Molly Samson is an investigative reporter.
Maybe she was doing an exposé on this place
and someone decided to shut her up.
If that's the case, she fooled me.
In my opinion, she was here because she was deeply troubled.
So you're thinking about killing yourself?
I'm not thinking about it.
I'm going to do it.
It's just a question of when.
Have you ever tried to kill yourself before?
Once... when I was a teenager.
What makes you want to do it now?
I'm just tired of faking.
There's all this... pressure
to be what people want me to be.
You can't just be yourself?
I guess... I'm scared.
Scared of what?
I'm a fraud. All right?
I pretend to know what I'm doing,
but actually, I don't.
I'm so... fried
from putting on this act...
that I'm scared people are going to start to see through me.
And... I'd rather die than live through that.
Then why did you come here, Molly?
My sister.
Every time I think of ending it, I...
I think of her.
Well, thank God for your sister, then.
It's good that you came in.
We're going to help you.
We put her on two-minute suicide checks,
snowed her with Benadryl and Ativan for about 14 hours.
Maybe that wasn't enough. So you're saying you
still think it's a possibility she killed herself?
It's possible.
So where's the body?
I don't know.
Has she slept here every night?
Since she got off suicide watch.
Did she ever spend time in here unsupervised?
Never during the day.
And at night, they sleep with the doors open.
How about the doors down the hall?
Always locked?
In theory, but they get opened and closed
all the time during rounds.
What's this?
Looks like a hospital-issue tee.
Yeah? Does this look like a hospital logo to you?
Claudia, you said I could have a vanilla pudding.
Either her doctor doesn't know anything or he's stonewalling.
He said she's suicidal.
JACK (on phone): She's got to be faking it.
The cops in Astoria ID'd the guy
that she met in the bar. Thank you.
Um, he was a private investigator.
My guess is that she was trying to get intel on a story
before she checked out.
Okay, so how does the bloody shirt fit in?
I'm not sure yet.
Did you find anything suspicious about this place?
Other than it's almost bankrupt, uh, everything seems normal.
Really?
'Cause from where I'm standing,
nothing seems normal.
Really? What's wrong?
Nothing. Nothing.
I just, uh... I miss you.
I feel like we haven't talked all week.
Well, we haven't.
You know, uh, I have my daughter and you got, uh...
The invalid father
of my child sleeping on my couch, yeah.
Hmm...
All right, so, uh, I guess I should get back to work.
Okay. Bye.
Bye.
WOMAN: What was she doing
in a mental clinic?
She told the doctor she felt suicidal.
How could that be?
I mean, she was stressed out, but... suicidal?
Well, she may have been writing a story.
The man she met at the bar is a private investigator.
Now, did she ever mention the clinic
or anyone that might be there?
No, never.
This is starting to sound just like Molly.
What do you mean?
She couldn't handle the whole
assemblyman mess, so she moves on to the next thing.
Has she done something like this before?
When we were kids, after Mom died,
Dad would disappear for days--
in and out of jail or rehab.
I was an emotional wreck, but Molly...
bottled it up, kept moving forward.
Whatever is
going on with her, I wish she would have talked to me.
Yeah?
Sorry to interrupt, but I found something important
and I couldn't track any other agents down.
That's okay. What do you got? Um, may I?
Yeah. Uh, I digitized a piece
of security footage from one of the clinic cameras,
shot the day before yesterday.
That's Molly in the middle.
Who's the guy? I don't know.
That could explain the bloody shirt
they found in her room.
This is the best shot I could get.
The quality was crap, but I tried to enhance it.
No, no, no, this is great. This is great.
Uh, good job. Thanks.
GOMEZ: His name is Bill Snyder.
He's been with us about 30 days.
And you had no idea he hit her?
That tape was only two days old.
Our security guards don't have time
to review the footage that quickly.
What's Bill Snyder here for?
He's a paranoid schizophrenic,
plus obsessive-compulsive.
They don't always stay in the boxes we put them in.
Yeah, and why do you have him in lockdown?
Unfortunately, what you saw on that tape
wasn't his only outburst.
He hit another patient last night.
As long as he takes his meds, he's calm,
but every now and then, he doesn't.
Great.
The only reason I hit Marco was
because he was trying to-to put a...
uh, a spell on me.
That's self-defense. Self-defense.
But that's a... that's a wrong thought.
And thank God
my medication, you know, revised it.
Well, that's good.
Bill, um...
Listen, I'd like to ask you a few questions
if that's okay with you and, uh...
You know, please understand you don't have to answer them...
My rights under the Constitution and the Bill of Rights,
as expanded by Miranda v. Arizona,
Supreme Court, 1966?
Exactly.
Um...
could you tell me why you hurt Molly Samson?
Um...
I-I didn't, um...
I didn't hurt Molly.
Well, actually, you did.
That's you right there, Bill.
(clears throat)
Yeah, see... That's not me.
That's Bill Two.
Right.
So, you didn't do it?
Nope.
All right.
You know, uh...
Maybe... Maybe you liked Molly, and she didn't like you back.
I don't bother pretty girls.
I only estimate their height, weight, and circumference
for scientific purposes.
Yeah, but you bothered Molly. Why?
You're wrong.
Molly wasn't mad.
She said we were... good.
I can see you, Bill.
No matter which way you move your chair.
I wasn't, uh... I wasn't trying to hide.
Yeah, you were.
Because you know
that you shouldn't have hit me
when I was talking with Isabella.
What, are you going to report me?
I just want to talk.
Oh.
Here.
You want it?
You can take it.
From now on, you can have all my fruit.
But now that you have something, I want something.
Look, I know that you hurt me on purpose.
And I think someone put you up to it.
That's not true. Yeah, it is.
Because every single time I'm talking with Isabella,
you try to interrupt us.
Look, I don't care why you did it.
I just... I want it to stop, okay?
We all need a friend in this place.
And I'm Isabella's.
So...
Are we good here?
Yeah. Okay.
Oh!
See? Everything was fine.
So, was Molly right?
Did you try and keep her from talking to Isabella?
No.
Did someone ask you to do it?
No.
Bill, you can tell me.
Who asked you to do it?
(groaning)
I'm changing your frequency.
You can't get in anymore.
(imitates whirring)
Thank you, Bill.
Okay. Her name is Isabella Tyler.
She checked into the clinic two weeks ago,
diagnosed as bipolar.
So, what's her connection to Molly?
I haven't been able to figure it out.
You know what? I think I may know.
I just got off the phone with the doorman
at Isabella's building.
Guess who her boyfriend is?
Assemblyman Walsh.
So, that's Molly's source.
Okay. That could explain the PI.
You know, the editor is pressing her for a name,
then she hires a guy to go track down Isabella.
Then she checks into
Walsh goes after Molly so that that doesn't happen. Mm-hmm.
My girl's smart.
I don't see how I can help.
Well, I know that you and Molly were friends,
and I was hoping you might be able
to clear a few things up for me.
Like what?
Like what you told her about Assemblyman Walsh.
Who told you I know him?
Have you and him been in contact?
No.
After he broke up with me last month,
I kind of went off the deep end.
Did you happen to mention to him that Molly was here?
I was trying to put that all behind me,
but Molly... she wouldn't let it go.
Oh, my God.
Isabella, what did you do?
I don't want to talk about it.
I don't understand what happened.
It doesn't matter.
You don't care about me.
All you care about is your story.
That's not true. I do care about you.
Then why do you keep asking me to go public
when you said I wouldn't have to?
I thought I could keep you anonymous, but I can't.
Putting away Walsh is what we both want.
What I want is to forget, and you won't let me.
He was using you.
And you weren't?
Don't you get it?
This is your fault.
(sniffling)
Just go away.
I'm-I'm so sorry.
I-I didn't think...
I-I-I'm so sorry.
Go away.
She didn't ask me about Walsh anymore.
She disappeared after that.
Do you have any idea what happened?
No. I don't know.
Isabella, I don't think
Bill hit her on his own.
I think somebody made him do it. If you know who that is,
you need to tell me. I have to go.
Listen to me. I talked to Molly
on the phone this morning.
A man was coming after her.
If you know who it is, I need you to tell me.
His name is George Hunson.
He's an orderly at the clinic.
He has been missing for about four hours.
Now, his phone records and his bank records
tie him to the assemblyman.
Not exactly a face you'd want to see
under the influence of drugs.
Well, let's hope it's not the last face she saw.
SAMANTHA: Molly, tell me where you are.
No! No, please don't!
SAMANTHA: Molly? Molly! Please don't! Please don't!
I got that search warrant you were after.
Okay, now sweep the top floor and the attic.
(garbled radio transmission)
You know, while your little people out there
are pawing through my property...
I wouldn't mind hearing a charge.
Well, let's see.
We could start with kidnapping,
first degree murder...
(laughs): Based on what?
Based on the fact that you hired...
George Hunson...
who, unfortunately for you,
according to your own phone records,
was stupid enough to call you twice
just after Molly Samson went missing.
Hmm. Well, you know what?
I didn't hire him to do anything.
That's good.
You go ahead and call your lawyer,
and I'll call the press back.
We'll have a press conference.
Because everything that I have on this table
is enough to send you to prison.
(cell phone beeps off)
What do you want to know?
Where's the girl?
I was...
I was afraid that she was going to get Isabella to come forward.
So you had her killed? No.
I got George to, um, drug her with roofies
and sneak her out of the clinic for me.
What are you doing here?
Where am I?
Uh...
Bleecker Street.
How did I get here?
You tell me. You asked...
You asked me to meet you, so...
I-I don't remember that.
Well, you did.
Okay. Let's get to it.
What's it going to take to make you go away?
I don't want your money.
I don't care about you anymore.
Okay, so, you-you put yourself in a nuthouse
so you can get more dirt from my ex-girlfriend...
and now you're saying that you-you think
you've lost the taste for it? I don't buy that.
Two days ago,
I would have done anything for my career,
but now...
You know, why don't you apologize to your family
or God,
if you even believe in one.
I'm done.
So... What, you're, like, you're suddenly Mother Teresa?
I just can't take it anymore.
That's it?
You know, actually, there is something that I want.
I knew that was coming.
I want you to leave Isabella alone.
Just let her get better in peace.
And then we're done?
Yeah.
Hmm.
Deal.
That was it.
She left. You called me, and now we're here.
So you honestly expect me to believe
that you went to all that trouble
just to let her wander away?
That's what happened.
Excuse me, Jack, can I have a word?
Sure.
Just stay there.
The house and car are clean.
No indication of struggle.
But the housekeeper was telling me
that she overheard a fight between Walsh and his wife.
She couldn't quite make out everything they were saying,
but she did say that Molly's name was mentioned.
Where's the wife now?
Well, that's the thing.
Apparently she took off after her husband
in her own car.
Hasn't come home since.
Three hours ago. Uh-huh.
JACK: Mr. Walsh...
where's your wife?
I don't know.
You know what? I'm getting tired of you wasting my time.
I'm not wasting your time.
when you went to meet the girl.
I think that you had your wife
do your dirty work. Now where is she?
Elizabeth was watching us while we were talking.
Elizabeth, what... what are you doing here?
Come here...
Making sure you didn't screw this up.
How much did she cost us?
Nothing.
It's done.
So... that's it?
Yep.
I don't believe you.
You promised this would go away, and it won't.
I told you that I took care of it.
Now just let it go.
We should actually be counting ourselves lucky.
Maybe she just told you what you wanted to hear.
How do you know she's not going to sell her story
to a higher bidder? Because I know. That's why.
(phone ringing)
I gotta take this.
Get out of the car. Go home.
We'll talk later.
(ringing continues)
It was you calling.
I came straight back here.
I thought... she was following me home.
Well, clearly she wasn't.
Let's just hope
that she's not quite the idiot that you are.
(knocking)
Thank God, Molly!
You're not hurt?
No, I'm fine.
What happened?
No, wait, let me call the FBI.
They've been looking for you...
In a minute. I need to talk to you.
All right, thanks.
A transit cop who works the Second Avenue bus line
thinks he saw Molly
just past the Stuyvesant Park stop.
Let me check.
Yep, that's five blocks from Cailyn's apartment.
Nice. I'll call Sammy. Okay.
Because of me... a woman almost killed herself.
I hunted her down.
I... I lied
to get into this hospital so I could talk to her again.
You were just trying to get your story. At what cost?
I told that shrink
what I thought he wanted to hear, but...
You know, part of it was true.
You wanted to kill yourself?
The part about being a fraud.
Growing up, it just felt like...
like survival every day.
You know, is there food in the fridge?
Dad's not too drunk.
I just...
I just feel like I'm caught in this loop.
Then stop.
Let me help for a change.
Yeah, that would be good.
Maybe you could, um...
go with me to my editor.
I'm going to tell him
that I lied.
I can't let this get back to Isabella.
Of course.
I'm there.
(knocking)
Can I help you?
Get over there.
Hey, wait a minute... Get over there!
And you... You sit down!
Mrs. Walsh, what are you doing? I said sit down!
Please. Sit!
You don't have to do this. Shut up!
I'm going to finish this.
You don't have to. I'm going to tell them that I lied.
They'll print a retraction.
FBI! Drop your weapon!
Now!
Mrs. Walsh, it's over. Drop your weapon.
Put it down!
Go ahead.
Get down. Hands behind your back.
You okay?
You wanted to see me?
Sit down.
I had a talk with the director about your report.
He expressed disappointment.
But considering your record,
he decided to see it as an aberration,
and let it go with a letter of censure.
You got lucky.
No, I know. Thank you.
No, we're not done.
You may be off the hook with him, but not here.
You wasted my time.
You made this unit
look like crap.
For the next six months,
you don't do anything without my approval.
You don't go into the field. You don't file a report.
You don't take a breath without me approving it first.
You understand?
Yes, sir, I understand.
We're done.
So we cuffed her, and NYPD took her, and that was that.
You did all that today?
Yeah.
I need a vacation just hearing about it.
No, you need a vacation because you have broken bones
and you just had major surgery.
Well, there's that. (chuckles)
How does it feel?
What?
Holding a gun on someone--
saving someone's life?
Um...
You know, sometimes in the middle of it,
I realize that I'm not...
breathing.
You know, I don't...
I don't want to make a mistake.
I don't want anyone to get hurt or killed because...
I wasn't paying attention.
Sounds stressful.
A little bit.
You know what you need?
What's that?
Bees.
I thought you watched that today.
I took a nap, and then I decided I'd rather read books to Finn.
It's supposed to be really good.
All right.
Bring it on.
(chuckles)