A woman outside, walking her dog, hears the crashing and must call the police. But back in the living room, Scarface is able to wrangle her way out from under Catherine and looks around an entire room of potential weapons and hones in on a magazine laying on the floor. She scoops it up, rolls it up, and goes after Catherine like my dad used to go after our St. Bernard when he would eat an entire shelf of books. But seriously, a magazine… and the fight is over. Sirens are wailing and Scarface has to get outta there.
Not knowing his mom is busy killing her second person of the episode, Nick is being interrogated by the FBI (in the lamest interrogation, ever). There’s no passion, they admit the DNA was not a match but was a close relative and who is he covering for? Nick says “my mom”, but it seems that they don’t believe him, I guess because they think his parents are dead? I don’t know, they need Ice T to school them in interrogation techniques. Nick calmly tells them they should take credit for killing the international bad guy… and voila, they hand over his gun, the interview over. Nick is free.
(I’m so glad they don’t notice I’ve been beaten to a bloody pulp.)
Poor Hank was doing his bestest to flex and get Nick freed, but then sees Nick walking out on his own. Poor Hank, they can’t give him a good scene to save his life… just one door slammed after another.
Anyway, Sgt. Wu calls Hank and tells him they have another murder. They head over the Catherine’s house and Nick acts as if he’s never seen her, and when they mention her last name is Schade, Hank wonders if she is related to Adalind. Nick shrugs him off. Nice friend. Nice partner. Ass.
I can’t believe they wrote me out of the show, instead of Juliette.
Yippee, we’re at Casa d’ Renard and the jar of milky goodness. He stands in front of a mirror and looks at it and then does a half morph, and the parts that morph look a lot like a Hexenbiest. I wasn’t sure, so I did some research and read in an interview that his character is, in fact, half Royal, half Hexenbiest.
Still looks better than some guys I used to date.
So, he sucks it up and swallows it down. He starts to wretch and gag, finally tears off his shirt, breathes black smoke, falls down, turns bright red, and eventually recovers. I guess he had a little evil in him, but who doesn’t want some.
Tastes like the ocean, my ass.
We must use the same tanning bed.