03x05 - Spanking the Zombie

[bunniefuu]

Liv: Previously on izombie...

I found an interesting post from a zombie-hater.

Harley Johns.

His online signature links to a local g*n range.

Zombies are real.

The scratching post.

Let's get up and running.

We don't have any customers yet.

Make some then.

I've developed a serum that could potentially undo the memory loss that accompanies the second zombie cure.

Ravi: The serum is completely ineffective.

It won't be long before you have an episode too severe for that inhaler to help.

This is the real deal!

With real b*ll*ts!

So, let's make sure they do not leave you real dead!

(g*nf*re)

It appears we've lost the element of surprise.

Thanks for the intel, captain obvious.

(Indistinct shouting)

You gonna live?

Affirmative.

All right.

Time's a wastin'.

There's hostages in there who aren't gonna rescue themselves.

Chug 'em if you've got 'em, boys.

We've gotta take that rooftop.

Cover me.

If we make it out of here, I'm transferring to accounting.

See you on the rooftop.

Yeah.

(Both grunting)

(g*nsh*t)

Rooftop secure.

Go, go, go.

(Gasping)

You okay, man?

Yeah, just a flesh wound.

Thirty-five flesh wounds.

(Chuckles)

(Theme song playing)

When major gets back from his mission, I'll have to break the news to him that the memory restoration serum didn't work for Blaine.

When major takes the cure, he's going to forget everything.

What's major doing going on a mission?

He shouldn't be leaving town.

He could die any day.

Well, he's got one of our cure syringes.

If he gets too bad, he can inject himself.

Clive: New case.

I need to get your thoughts.

Don't know how this works yet?

As a general rule, I require a dead body and a brain.

She's right.

We tend to meet you at what's called a "crime scene," and then...

The m*rder occurred two weeks ago.

It was Percy's case, but he's out for a month with a back injury.

Now it's mine.

Vic's name was Roxanne greer.

Caucasian female in her 30s.

Strangulation.

Right.

Sorry, clive.

Roxanne greer was cremated.

No brain.

Actually...

I'm not putting that in my mouth.

The memory restoration serum had no effect on Blaine.

Blaine's human, I'm not.

But that's not my problem.

It's the color, right?

Blue isn't appetizing.

She was a dominatrix, ravi.

A dominatrix who went by the name sweet lady pain.

Oh, that?

You're already a bit on the bossy side, I doubt anyone would even notice.

Remember where we found her?

In her dungeon, surrounded by freaky sex toys and strangled by her own whip.

Does that sound fun to you?

Thinking...

Here's the problem.

Detective Percy was certain Roxanne was m*rder*d by a client, but...

You don't know who her clients were.

We needs visions, Liv.

I'll get the frying pan.

(Whip cracks)

Crawl over here, piggie, and bring me my gloves.

No.

Someone's asking to be punished.

Is it you?

Here.

I thought so.

This is where you end up when your parents don't tell you they love you.

Don't be so close-minded.

A control freak like you could enjoy being told what to do for a change.

Whips, chains...

Unlikely.

Why the school desk?

Do you have any fantasy life at all?

Silverware?

- People ate in here?

- Big whoop.

Half my meals are consumed in a morgue.

You know that window up there, Percy says in his notes that he thinks the k*ller broke in that way.

Why didn't she hear him?

Don't know.

A remote.

I wonder what it controls.

You see anything vibrating?

Spy-tech.

You see a camera anywhere?

Not a camera.

That's a camera lens.

The memory card is missing.

What if the k*ller learned his session was being taped, strangled Roxanne, and took the memory card with him?

Why does he break the window?

Please try this on for me.

Liv: You make me sick, you horrid, thumb-sucking bed-wetter.

Oh, god, I've missed you.

I've missed this.

Liv: Say it.

I'm nothing.

I'm a lying, thumb-sucking bed-wetter.

I'm not worthy of my success.

Liv: Let's see if you're as ugly as I remember.

(Gasping)

(Panting)

That had to be a record.

I was worried you'd gone warg.

I just saw d.A. Baracus.

As in the zombie running for mayor of Seattle.

He was strapped to that bed, begging Roxanne to whip him.

(Chuckles)

Sweet sassy molassy!

A guy running for office discovers his s&m sessions are being recorded.

Next thing you know, the whip is in the other hand.

You sure it was him?

Positive.

This vision was different.

Longer.

Cleaner.

Something about ravi's blue juice made it extra potent.

Good.

That's what we need.

Let's pay baracus a visit on the campaign trail tomorrow and get him to talk.

How'd we do?

Otis is dead.

But a dozen qumarian separatists won't be kidnapping any more American citizens.

(Grunts)

Souvenir?

Couple days, you'll be good as new.

(Helicopter flying)

(Blade chopping)

(Zipper being closed)

Nice work out there today, lilywhite.

Chalk one up for the good guys.

Yeah.

Back at ya.

The outfit's a bit much, that's all I'm saying.

I didn't ask.

- There's baracus.

- It's the best price in town.

A regular man of the people when he's not spread-eagled on a bondage bed wearing a gimp suit.

Clive: Thanks for planting that image in my mind.

The baracus session was a hallmark movie in comparison to the visions I had last night.

This blue juice-soaked brain, it kept me up all night.

Vision after vision without anything triggering them.

You may be the only man in Seattle not seeing sweet lady pain.

So you're seeing her clients?

Lots of them.

That's great news.

Yeah, but I don't recognize any of them.

They're all just rando dudes.

-Rando dudes into kinky-ass...

-When we get back to the station, get together with Jimmy.

(Sighs)

Well, we need to get those rando dudes sketched before you forget them.

Or, if we're lucky, the case ends here.

Ah, detective.

Ms.

Moore.

To what do I owe this pleasure?

Oh, sorry.

Down on all fours.

- Lick it up.

- Excuse me?

Why don't we talk in private.

Yeah.

Let's.

What about my boot?

Sorry to interrupt your campaigning, but we're looking into the m*rder of Roxanne greer.

-Who?

-You knew her as sweet lady pain.

I don't think I'm familiar with...

(Chuckles)

I ate her brain and had a vision of you wearing a gimp mask.

You told lady pain you were a bed-wetting, thumb-sucking liar and unworthy of your success.

Think that'll fit on a bumper sticker?

That's just two consenting adults...

Don't apologize.

It's pathetic.

So what happened?

Did you discover the hidden camera, lose your cool?

There was a hidden camera?

Wait!

Are you asking me if I m*rder*d sweet lady...

-Miss greer?

-She was m*rder*d on the evening of the 25th.

Do you remember your whereabouts that evening?

Ah...

I was at a campaign fundraiser.

So there must have been dozens of donors present that can confirm it.

Why don't you just give me a few?

(Exhales)

You want me to do nine different sketches?

Did you see the starting lineup of a baseball team m*rder someone?

I'm assisting detective babineaux with a m*rder investigation.

An anonymous witness sent me snapchats with photos they took of possible suspects.

As soon as I open the images, they disappear.

You could've saved us both a lot of time if you'd just screen-grabbed the images.

When I want your advice, I'll b*at it out of you.

Now be a good little sketch bitch and pick up that pad.

Excuse me?

Oh, I think you heard me, Jimmy.

I think you hear me loud and clear.

Pick up the pad.

Okay.

- Suspect number one.

- Yeah.

- Suspect number six.

- (Sighing)

Dimple chin, high cheekbones, barbells in each of his nipples.

This is kind of a "from the neck up" situation.

Draw the nipples, Jimmy.

Elevating my blood sugar levels might help me work faster.

I brought my lunch.

- Two bites.

- It's soup.

Then two swallows.

Okay.

Liv: Harder!

Look at this.

It's as filthy as you are.

Please, do not punish me, sweet lady pain.

Punish me.

Punish me hard.

Ah!

I'll rub it until it's shiny!

I'll rub it until it's shiny!

(Panting)

- What?

- I didn't say anything.

That's right, you didn't.

So you know, you just stared blankly at me for, like, 20 seconds.

Shut up.

And no noodles.

Just broth.

I've never even heard of this sweet lady pain person.

She was the local dominatrix m*rder*d in her dungeon.

You reported the story on the news.

My job is to read the news, not absorb it.

Frankly, I resent being questioned every time a hooker or stripper or dominatrix gets k*lled in this town.

Why don't you ever bug me when somebody murders a plumber?

You hang out with a lot of plumbers?

That was rhetorical.

Look, hookers, strippers, yeah, but a dominatrix?

I'm a married man, detective.

I already give way too much of my money to a woman who abuses me.

We have sweet lady pain's client list.

Your name's on it.

Oh!

Sweet lady pain's on pike?

I may have visited her establishment once or twice for an investigative piece.

Do you remember where you were the night of her m*rder?

Same place I am every time you've accused me of m*rder.

On the air.

Were you aware she recorded her sessions?

Am I wrong to find that unethical?

The people of Seattle rely on me as a symbol of wisdom and integrity.

This stuff didn't matter when I was doing the weather, but now I am their anchor, man.

You have to find those tapes.

For the good of our fair city.

You two.

Stay the hell out of my case.

Yeah, thought so.

- What makes you think we're...

- Stop it.

You're embarrassing yourself.

The guy with the "don't tread on me" bumper sticker seen driving by the tuttle-Reid home the night before the m*rder...

Harley Johns.

Just imagine my surprise when I show up at his g*n range to question him, and Harley goes on a tirade against the spd.

He claims we're harassing him.

'Cause apparently a black cop and his pale partner already interrogated him.

And now he's lawyering up.

- That's not how it went down.

- I don't care if you had a personal connection to the victims.

Stay away from my case.

Both of you.

Show of hands if you're super turned on right now.

You catch what he said?

It was more his tone of voice.

Harley Johns was casing Wally's house the day before the murders.

He feels like our guy.

Yeah, but we've got no proof, and it sounds like Harley's done talking.

He won't talk to us, but maybe he'll talk to your Fillmore-graves friends.

Why would he talk to them?

I think we can come up with a reason.

Tell them what you told me.

There's a man.

Harley Johns.

His brother worked down in the basement of Max rager and told him about the zombies down there.

He was k*lled in the m*ssacre.

Now Harley is preaching v*olence against zombies on an Internet message board, and it turns out he was seen driving by the tuttle-Reid house the day before the murders.

- We should get rid of him.

- That's it?

No trial?

No jury?

Just an execution.

Do we wait until he puts a b*llet in another little zombie boy's head?

Let's not all forget that I work with the police.

No one's getting rid of anyone.

What we need is information.

Now, he won't talk to the police, but I bet he'll talk to you.

-Why's that?

-Because you're gonna pay him to.

I am?

What's happening?

A vision, I think.

A long one.

We may need to reboot her.

Liv: Suspect number 10, square jaw, salt and pepper stubble, full lips.

Another anonymous snapchat.

And you didn't screen grab this time because...

Ask me another question, Jimmy, and I will put you over my knee.

Really?

- How's it going?

- Maybe knock next time.

I thought I made myself clear when I said, "shut your mouth." Glory be to the father and...

Liv: In Latin.

What?

(Gasps)

Okay...

(Speaking Latin)

Uh...

(Exclaims)

(Stammering)

Wait, wait, wait.

(Continuing in Latin)

Ow!

Oh, Latin!

Oh, why hast thou forsaken me?

Oh!

There's a pervert spying on us!

Liv: Not again.

You just did the staring thing.

Shut up.

She's single, right?

- Hey...

- Is for horses.

Grabbing is for friends and lovers, or people who enjoy being sued.

Where were you the night of Roxanne greer's m*rder?

I'm a defense lawyer.

I've got a lot of dead people names swimming around in my noggin.

Can you be more specific?

Sweet lady pain.

And when exactly was she was k*lled?

Maybe we should move this to somewhere more private.

I'm not sure what you plan on measuring in here, but I'd recommend a yard stick.

Shut your mouth.

Hmm.

That's kind of my line.

(Door opens)

Your dog groomer confirmed your alibi.

If you don't mind, we'd still like to ask you a couple of questions.

Guess what?

I mind.

Get your ass back in that chair.

In lieu of laughing in your face, I'm going to chuckle to myself on the way out.

Be a good boy, and I won't make you answer clive's questions in Latin.

How long were you a client of sweet lady pain's?

Any association between myself and the deceased is purely speculative on your part.

Would you say you visited her dungeon on a regular basis?

I wouldn't say anything that in any way would confirm or deny visiting anywhere.

I will say that the definition of "regular basis" varies from person to person.

Your "regular basis" could be my "sporadic." Are there any other questions you'd like me to expertly evade?

Yes.

Can you order a catholic schoolboy's uniform in a 44-tall or do you have to have that specially made?

You have very specific ideas regarding my alleged connection to the victim.

Would it be accurate to say that there's an existing record of Ms.

pain's sessions?

Mmm, we can neither confirm or deny that.

Some of Roxanne's clients mentioned she had a problem with an unwanted voyeur.

Know anything about that?

Assuming I was a client, then yes.

She may have also mentioned that the peeping tom had been a client who scared the hell out of her.

Could you identify him?

If I had seen someone, then it is possible that I could recognize said person.

Do any of these men look familiar?

If I had seen a voyeur peeping in Ms.

pain's window, and I am not saying that I was ever there, I would be certain it was this guy.

Need a little help.

There's a stool in the back.

d*ck.

You say something?

No, you're hearing things, big fella.

(Scoffs lightly)

Tell your grandma I'mma swing by to roll her a few spliffs.

Rheumatoid arthritis ain't gonna stop no sweet lady from getting her swerve on.

Yeah.

Come on, let's go.

How much will a u-boat set me back?

Twenty will get you a ticket to ride, my friend.

- Can I hook you up?

- Nah.

Just professional curiosity.

- Your stuff any good?

- Negatory.

Quality utopium is a relic of a bygone era.

Mr.

boss took out the crew slinging lucky u.

Not all of them.

What?

(Chuckles)

You?

Straight up.

My man!

Torrent downloaded from RARBG I got to try it once.

It's a night I'll never forget.

Tangerine trees, marmalade skies, the whole shebang.

You want another taste?

Yeah.

(Rock song playing)

(Yelling)

You wanna be a zombie?

-What?

-A zombie.

It's rad, I swear.

If this is being a zombie, then bring it on!

(Both screaming excitedly)

This is t*rture and I'm not even enjoying it.

Tell me again how we know the peeping tom had a criminal record?

We don't.

We're taking an uneducated guess.

It's what you do when you hit a dead end.

We've got company.

You needing me to get you a teleprompter, Johnny?

I was told not to speak until my lawyer is present.

Oh, lord.

I told you to meet me in the waiting area.

Do you see a coffee table strewn with magazines?

- No, I was...

- Shut your mouth.

My client has information in the Roxanne greer case, but we have a conundrum.

Relaying what he knows may or may not indicate that he violated the law.

Well, he either broke the law or he didn't.

Which is it?

It's both.

And it's neither.

Now, we were willing to offer you a resolution to your case if you were willing to ignore a tiny white lie that barely obstructed justice.

Done.

A couple days after Roxanne was m*rder*d, I received an email.

The sender threatened to release a video of my session with sweet lady pain unless I paid them 10 grand.

- (Cracks whip)

-Oui!

Oui!

Oui!

Climate change!

"Climate change" is my safe word.

My client regrets not coming forward with this information sooner, and for that, he is very sorry.

He doesn't look sorry to me.

Maybe if he crawled across the floor a couple times on his knees.

You're not crawling across the floor.

Yet.

Look, my client made an innocent mistake.

I thought I could make the whole thing go away by paying the money.

Only an idiot would trust a blackmailer to destroy the footage.

Say it out loud.

"I'm an idiot." Detective, can you tell your partner to stop verbally abusing my client?

Tell your client to stop asking for it.

I have an important b*mb to drop if you're done with your shenanigans.

Good.

Yesterday, Mr.

frost received another request for money in exchange for not releasing the video.

You picking up what I'm putting down, detective?

Where do we arrange the drop?

-Vivian?

-I'm sorry, general, I'll have to call you back.

My guest is here.

There he is.

Mr.

Johns!

I was told there was some sort of a settlement for my brother's death.

Come join me over here if you will.

You can sit there.

These are my top people.

A.K. Fortesan runs our m*llitary operations.

Carey gold runs everything else.

We understand you lost your brother in the tragedy at Max rager headquarters.

And as you know, we purchased the company.

I realize that $10,000 check isn't gonna end your pain, but we hope that it will cover the funeral expenses, and help your family through this tough time.

So what's the catch?

There's no catch.

Then I guess I'll be on my way then.

Mr.

Johns, before you go, would you mind answering just a couple questions?

- There's the catch.

- (Chuckles softly)

We've read some of the theories you've posted online.

Zombies?

Really?

You can laugh, but I know it for a fact.

My brother worked in a secret lab there.

He saw them up close.

And he told me all about them.

That's what we're interested in.

We want to compare notes.

You know what this is?

I think I do.

I saw the carnage at the super Max party firsthand.

People losing their minds, attacking their friends...

- The zombie outbreak.

- We're thinking a freak virus that caused the infected to crave brains.

You're just using different words to say the same thing.

Some of our men made it down to the basement lab that night.

We believe our men may have been exposed to the virus.

Are you familiar with the tuttle-Reid murders?

I've heard stories on the radio.

Caleb tuttle worked for us.

The police said they found tubes like these in his refrigerator.

Tubes full of a brain paste.

We suspect he was infected that same night, and he swiped the tubes from the Max rager basement.

Harley: What happened to the rest of your men who went down there?

We've quarantined them.

So far, none of them are craving brains, but we're worried about them, which is why we brought you in.

We wanted any information your brother may have passed along to you that could help us.

I know one foolproof test to tell if they're zombies.

Yes?

Dave told me that zombies have a pulse of about 10 beats per minute.

If you wanna know if your guys are brain eaters, just check their heart rate.

Nice pro tip.

Harley: What do you plan to do if any of your guys fail the test?

A.K.: We'd have to weigh our options at that time.

(Chuckles)

There's only one real option.

b*llet in the head and burn the bodies.

These men are our friends.

They have families.

You're part of the problem, then.

I mean, don't you get it?

It's coming.

The zombie virus is gonna get out, and it's gonna spread.

And then it'll be us versus them.

We tried to warn people, but they called us lunatics, fringe.

But whatever, fine.

They're gonna be zombie food, and I won't shed a tear.

Not us, though.

See, we're taking this seriously.

We are well-armed, and we're taking the w*r to them.

And who, exactly, is "we"?

Me and my fellow travelers.

We're the ones who understand that if you're not willing to do what it takes, you're gonna end up a zombie or a zombie snack.

Either way, you won't be spared.

We appreciate your time, Mr.

Johns.

You don't believe me, do you?

I'm a bit more inclined to believe something medical.

A virus.

"Zombies" is a bit of a leap.

What do you call that?

Are you sure your brother didn't just send you a picture from a zombie movie?

Bury your head in the sand if you want to.

It's a shame.

m*llitary contractor like you could be awful handy.

Once the virus starts to spread?

By then, it'll be too late.

We've learned a lot.

We're about to learn more.

(Cell phone rings)

-(Sighs)

-Man: So, what'd they have to say?

Those corporate hacks know about zombies, but they're just trying to cover their own asses.

Man: You bring up the chaos k*ller victims?

Do they know they might be brain eaters, too?

Harley: No.

They don't have the stomach to go through with what's gotta happen.

All right, man, I'm heading back to work.

I'll see you there.

Bye.

Man: Later.

They believe all the chaos k*ller victims are zombies.

- And they're right.

- So what do we do?

Protect the chaos k*ller victims.

- Sorry I'm late.

- (Sighs)

Put this in.

Clive's been driving me crazy.

Clive: You were making me nervous, Liv.

And yet, here I am.

What did you learn about Harley Johns over at Fillmore-graves?

A lot.

None of it good.

I'll download you after the drop.

Where are you?

Don't worry about me.

You and ravi move into position.

Hold my hand.

Fingers interlocked.

Clive, ravi's not doing any of this right.

You're not making any of this easy.

And we're strolling.

- Stroll faster.

- You can't stroll faster.

It's no longer strolling, it's striding.

-People.

- Smile.

Zucchini.

Fiddlesticks.

Mollycoddle.

-What are you doing?

-I'm hoping one of these is my safe word.

Less talking, more smiling.

No teeth.

-Pretend I'm saying something really funny.

-(Laughing)

We're about to hit the drop time.

-Keep your eyes peeled.

-My goal is not to get knifed to death, so all eyes on Johnny.

Stop moving your lips, you'll...

Stop!

Police!

(Grunts)

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.

Liv: Clive.

Tighter.

(Handcuffs click)

The perp is James weckler.

Divorced father of one.

Did some time for burglary.

Also did a stint in a psych ward.

We can nail him for extortion, but as far as Roxanne's m*rder?

Our case is thin.

Let me work him over, see what I can do.

You wanna be bad cop?

That requires genuine intimidation, Liv.

I'm sorry.

You're many things, but intimidating?

I don't think so.

Watch me.

Anything I can get for you?

Coffee?

Maybe a soda?

You got any hand sanitizer?

I'm sure I can track some down once we're finished talking.

You've been advised of your rights, Mr.

weckler.

You can choose to have a lawyer...

James weckler.

Crazy James weckler.

You know who flees from the police, crazy James?

Guilty people flee.

That's who.

We could've just shut the camera off, Liv.

Does she work here?

You m*rder*d her, didn't you?

You found out she was recording sessions, and you figured you could steal the memory card and blackmail the other men on it, so you broke in.

You didn't plan to k*ll her, but she caught you in the act, and you decided that you weren't going back to prison, even if it meant Roxanne greer had to die.

I did k*ll her.

And let's just say it's for the reason you said.

It's as good as any other.

Isn't this the part where you give me your pad and let me write it all down?

(Door closes)

Man: You ready to head to the bar?

We're gonna pour out one for Otis.

Almost.

(Sighs)

It was something else.

Seeing an ice chest full of heads.

Yeah, well, zombies need to eat, and there are never enough brains to go around.

Besides, those guys weren't using them anymore.

No, I thought a lot about it.

I get it.

(Coughs)

(Exhales deeply)

We should really get a medic to look at you.

I'm fine.

Need to puke my guts out for a minute.

Then I'll head over to the bar and raise a glass for Otis, that cocky son of a bitch no one liked.

(Chuckles)

Phrase it just like that.

See you there?

Yeah.

(Sighs)

(Coughing)

(Coughing violently)

Major.

(Gasping)

Take me to the police morgue.

We were in a battle.

Major was stabbed a bunch of times.

That's not what's k*lling him.

His lungs are filling up with fluid.

He needs the cure.

Now.

Cure for what?

-Don't inject him.

-We have no choice.

He's gonna die.

If we turn him human, these wounds will k*ll him.

- What?

Turn him human?

- Then what's the plan?

Pray the pleural effusion doesn't k*ll him first?

With the rats, the pneumonia was the precursor to their brains melting.

Get me an empty syringe with the biggest needle we can find.

I'll treat the effusion with a thorancentesis.

Help me get him on his side.

This should buy us enough time for his wounds to heal.

You got this.

(Rock music playing)

(Whooping)

All: Cheers!

What else do you need, boss?

I'm good, slick.

The grand opening was a success.

What do these fools keep saying?

It's bengali for "cheers." We're serving tiger brains?

No...

the brains are from a hospital in Bangladesh.

- Oh!

- (Both laughing)

If only my old corner boy buddies could see me now.

A round of drinks on me!

Don e., your humble proprietor.

Cheers!

(Snoring)

Go to bed.

I'll stay with major.

I'll, uh...

I'll make another pot of coffee.

No.

Get some rest, we need you on your game tomorrow.

I'll be right down the hall if you need me.

- Hey...

- Shh.

Go back to sleep.

What happened?

The pneumonia was gonna take you out, but we couldn't give you the cure until your combat wounds had healed a bit.

What happened with Blaine?

Did the memory serum work?

It didn't.

I'm so sorry, major.

(Sighs)

Then this is it.

Once I heal up, I take the cure, and everyone I've ever known is wiped from my memory.

Maybe the cure won't have the same effect on you.

- Maybe you'll...

- Liv.

Stop.

I need you to do something for me.

Name it.

Once I'm new me, keep reminding me of what we meant to each other?

(Sighs)

And give me a new name.

One that's less silly.

Gern blanston.

- Why not.

- (Chuckles softly)

Tell me about the first time we kissed.

That's one memory I don't want to lose.

It was more of a heavy make-out session actually.

You'd come over to "study." Remember what you were wearing?

I don't.

Pajamas.

- Laundry day pajamas.

- (Laughs)

(Chuckling)

I thought, "there's no way this girl is into me." I was comfortable around you.

- It's a gift you have, gern.

- (Chuckles softly)

You put people at ease.

(Sighs)

You looked beautiful.

There's one silver lining to forgetting everything.

What?

You'll knock me off my feet all over again.

(Folk song playing)

(Inhales deeply)

Liv...

(Knock on door)

Come in.

I can come back.

It's okay.

How's our patient?

Keeping it together.

(Sighs)

You are healing enough to survive, even as a relatively fragile human.

It's time.

The memory loss won't be instant.

It'll feel like a slow fade.

With Blaine, it took a couple of days.

Got it.

You know, I had this whole speech planned.

It was funny and heartfelt, profound.

But it feels like a waste if you're just gonna forget it anyway.

Let's just agree it was brilliant.

Yeah.

Is there anything you want to add, Liv?

It's already been said.

I'm gonna miss you guys.