All language subtitles for The.Hunting.Party.S01E08

Previously on "The Hunting Party"...

Dr. Dulles, you have a visitor.

Hi, Dad.

Who was that speaking with Dr. Dulles just now?

That was his son.

I'm Dr. Dulles' daughter.

He doesn't have a son.

This is the third time I've caught you watching me.

Care to tell me why you've been

pretending to be my brother?

Depends how much time you got.

Oliver's not lying about this.

There's something going on in Silo 12

that we are not supposed to see,

and it has to do with the blast.

Which is why we have to see for ourselves.

Yeah, great. All three of us.

This wasn't a breach.

It was a massacre.

I know this drug.

It's the same one they gave Richard Harris.

We believe that art is an act of creation.

But when a sculptor approaches a raw block of marble,

is she creating?

No, she's attacking it.

Disfiguring it.

Obliterating.

Art is destruction, not construction.

Art is death.

The tragic playwrights of ancient Greece,

they understood this.

Destroy an object's purity.

Bend it to your will.

Take that raw material, and you shape it into a statement.

It must shock.

No one can resist a catastrophe.

It pulls at the imagination,

stirs raw emotion.

An artist has to call forth something so awful

that it will forever be seared into the viewer's psyche,

something for which the artist will be remembered.

Uh--

Professor Glenn, come with us.

I am not finished.

Denise Glenn, you are under arrest

for the murder of six people.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be used against you

in a court of law.

- Denise! - Professor Glenn! Professor!

Do you have anything to say?

Denise!

Your folks look like good people.

Sort of.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I had a great childhood.

But, you know, my parents kept secrets from me

my whole life.

My dad and I were never close for many reasons.

I always knew he was hiding things from my mom and I.

His work, which he never talked about,

always came first.

Speaking of your dad's work, um,

right before my mom died,

she admitted to me that I wasn't her biological child.

I was adopted.

She explained to me that they'd been having trouble conceiving

and that a doctor had approached them

about a research study involving adopted children.

But there was one condition-- that I would meet

with Dr. Dulles, your father, every week

for pretty much my whole childhood.

He said he was my therapist,

but I--

Your father is the only one

who can tell me who my biological parents really are.

Well, what does he say when you ask him?

Different things every time.

Sometimes he remembers a woman, you know,

but not her name or what she looks like.

And other times, he just rambles about old experiments.

Right, yeah, because his mind is completely gone.

Sarah, it's not. He--he recognizes me.

It's in moments, but he does.

And I--and I think if I can get him to see me,

like, really see me, he--he will remember.

I know this is the last thing you need right now.

I do, and I'm sorry.

But I just want to know who I am.

Please.

I'll think about it.

I told you everything I know about Silo 12.

How do we even know you're telling the truth?

You don't, but I am.

Look, I swear to you, I don't know

any of the names of the people who met in that boardroom, OK?

All I know is that that is where our scientists

would present their research. - To who?

OK? Defense contractors, Big Pharma, CEOs and bigwigs.

OK, so any of these bigwigs could have been

responsible for the blast. - Yes.

What company was there the morning of the blast?

I told you I don't know!

No, but you knew that Silo 12 had been breached

minutes before the Pit exploded.

How? - My contact told me.

Your contact?

Did your contact also instruct you

to pull terabytes of classified Pit data

from the mainframe?

Or was that your own bright idea?

We have CCTV footage of your office

minutes before the blast.

In the event of a breach, it's the warden's duty

to secure data.

That was just protocol.

- Protocol. - Yeah, I was doing my job.

Good job.

Have you been using that footage

to poison Bex against me this whole time?

Are you guys done, or do I need to get

a tape measure to settle this?

Come on, back off.

Enough. We're after the same thing.

Yeah, what's that?

The truth, for crying out loud.

Just got another hit.

All right.

I'll get my people to analyze this IV bag,

and we'll know who made it within 48 hours.

Great. Till then, please stay on track.

We're up.

Victim was just found on a park bench in St. Louis.

Throat slit, then posed.

That's the MO of Muse Murderer Denise Glenn.

She came to the Pit in 2015.

Looks like she's back at it.

Well, I wish it were that simple.

Right, we know exactly where she is.

How?

We pulled her out of the rubble

a couple hours after the blast.

Morales, pull up the status report for inmate number E27.

OK, but if it's not Denise,

who's out there doing her kills?

Denise Glenn was pulled from the rubble

six hours after the blast.

OK, is it possible this is a random copycat?

Well, the killings did make a splash in the media.

They were studied, written about, speculated on.

So could it be, like, a superfan?

To have a copycat emerge weeks after

a mass exodus from the Pit?

It's too coincidental.

Well, assuming it is just some other escaped Pit inmate,

why would they take on Denise's MO

instead of returning to their own?

What were her Pit treatments like?

Uh, one-on-one talk therapy with the Pit psychologist.

OK, can we talk to the psychologist?

No, he died in the blast.

But we do have video of the sessions

and of something else.

Denise was allowed to sculpt,

just her alone, closely monitored in a therapy room.

- What'd she make? - Clay figurines.

Morales, can you review those tapes

and find anything, no matter how small,

that might shed some light? - On it.

And, Shane, you said all the prisoners were siloed.

But were there any instances where they

conversed with each other?

There were rumors,

like tapping on walls, passing of notes,

but I never saw anything, and they were

always blindfolded outside their cells.

She never had contact with any other inmates.

She found a way to convert someone to her cause.

You've got Denise in custody.

Why don't we just ask her?

Look, I want to catch this killer as much as anyone,

but before I make that call, I need concrete proof

that this was done by an escapee

and not some copycat.

Then you'd all better get to St. Louis fast.

Find that proof before our mystery inmate kills again.

Why did you kill the ballerina?

It wasn't about the killing.

It was an act of reverence.

I saw a true artist at work.

The power, beauty, grace of those limbs.

What I saw, I saw the embodiment

of the essence of dance.

It was a perfect tribute to Terpsichore.

So you destroyed her?

I didn't destroy her.

I immortalized her.

By cutting her throat?

A dancer in their prime has, what,

five, ten good years in her career

before she withdraws into obscurity?

No one is going to forget her now,

thanks to me.

At age 35, Denise Glenn was the youngest

tenured art history professor at St. Louis University

and the only one with six homicides to their name.

Bit of an underachiever, huh?

Well, Denise considered herself an artist

first and foremost.

Her obsession with death and tragedy

came through in her writings and lectures,

but at the end of the day,

her life was actually pretty boring.

Came from a stable, loving home.

No major abuse or trauma.

Do you think some people are just born bad?

I think there's some debate about that.

Some people aren't equipped with the ability

to empathize with others, and that can evolve

into sociopathy, acute narcissism, or worse.

In this case, it became Denise's little art project.

What's with all the different names?

Each kill was an homage to a specific Greek muse.

Victims were gifted high achievers

at the top of their field, and their deaths

were offerings to the muses that supposedly

gave them these talents.

Ballet starlet for the muse of dance,

an award-winning author for the muse of epics,

and our copycat took a page right out of her book.

Killed a cellist for Euterpe, the muse of music.

- How many muses are there? - Nine.

OK, show-off.

Oh, my kids really love Greek mythology.

Denise only made it through six of the nine muse killings

before she was caught.

So she never finished her-- her project.

- Nope. - So there's, what, three left?

Two after the cellist.

Urania, the muse of astronomy,

and Erato, the muse of mimicry.

How are we supposed to get out ahead of that?

Mimicry is, like-- like, mimes, right?

Uh...

Close. It's more like mimics.

- That makes sense. - Yeah.

Denise's case file referred to a sketchbook.

Police broke the case off of grainy CCTV of a hooded figure

completing the sixth muse, and in the video,

the figure is referring to a sketchbook.

But post-arrest, police never found it.

They looked everywhere.

Well, that sketchbook sounds like a how-to manual

to complete Denise's killings.

Maybe--maybe she told our inmate where to find it.

Well, assuming it was an escaped inmate.

All right, this vic is a street musician.

He's performed in parks all over the city.

Seems like people loved this guy.

Give us five, please. - Of course.

The killer posed him in the act, just like the others.

Denise always made her victims celebrate

their artistry, even in death.

The attention to detail is impressive.

But a superfan could get all this from the newspapers.

Wait, wait, wait. Hold on.

Epsilon for Euterpe.

There's our proof. - I don't follow.

The medical examiner's report said that each victim

had a Greek letter carved into them.

That's not a detail that was disclosed to the press.

A superfan wouldn't know that.

But an inmate with access to Denise's sketchbook would.

How's that for concrete?

We have to talk to Denise, Hassani--now.

I'll make the call. You go back to headquarters.

You can interview the professor there.

What are you guys gonna do?

Well, I had Morales pull the local police blotter.

There was a break-in at the university archives

a couple of nights ago.

Seems more than a coincidence.

OK. Keep me posted.

- Yeah. - Yep.

It's all yours.

Let's go.

She here?

Any minute.

OK, well, I went over the court transcripts.

I've never seen megalomania like this before.

Denise went against the advice of her attorneys

and spent hours in court preaching

about her place in history.

She even convinced her first lawyer

to help her with an unsuccessful escape attempt.

Easy slam dunk for the prosecution, at least?

Bex, I know that you're more than capable

of handling Denise on your own.

I am.

But let's be real.

Two is always better than one.

Especially us two.

Got my back?

Always.

Handle this. We could do--

She's here.

It's like riding a bike.

Absolutely.

Oh, Warden, I was really hoping that you were dead.

Denise Glenn, I am Special Agent Henderson,

and I see you've already met the warden.

I never forget a pretty face,

and yours will be one that I will certainly remember.

Perfect bone structure, strong chin,

and a beauty mark that draws the eye in

just the right amount.

- OK, let's start-- - Professor Gl--

Oh.

Do you guys want to take five and gather your thoughts?

No, we're quite all right. Why don't you go ahead?

There's a crime scene in St. Louis

with your name all over it.

We know the killer was a fellow Pit inmate.

I would like a drink of water.

Please.

Should you deny my request, might I remind you of my right

to water, apropos the United Nations Resolution 64?

So the victim was posed playing a cello,

surrounded by sheet music that spelled out Euterpe.

May I?

Sure.

Hmm.

That is very nice work.

Very, very nice indeed.

Who did it, Professor Glenn?

Well, how am I supposed to know?

I've been stuck in a box.

No, you converted an inmate to your cause.

So who was it?

It was me!

I teleported out of my cell and I committed the murder.

And then I jumped into my time machine

and I made my merry way to Dallas, where I shot JFK.

Who's your apprentice?

I'd rather talk about your apprentice right now, Warden.

Slight age gap, subtle deference.

Yeah, you want to make him proud, don't you?

But at the same time, remind him that you

are as formidable as he is.

Maybe even a little bit more.

Hmm.

That's some psychological projection right there.

Yeah, it's a classic defense mechanism.

I'm actually a bit bummed.

I thought she would be way more original than that.

What's next, turn the tables, drive a wedge between us?

I think so, yeah.

Call it women's intuition,

but I just have this pesky feeling that

that wedge is already there.

But you still care about her, don't you, Warden?

In fact, you would do anything for your apprentice.

Just like I would do anything for mine.

So tell me, why on earth would I betray them

when they have just been so loyal?

Welcome, traveler.

Have you come to see your future?

Come on in.

She didn't deny it was an inmate.

That's as good a confirmation as we're gonna get.

But we still have no leverage.

How are we gonna make her talk?

We have to make her uncomfortable.

Get her on her back foot.

We'll need to bluff her. - Carefully.

We get caught with our pants down, there's no going back.

Guys, I was reviewing Denise's sculpting videos.

You need to take a look.

Nothing was taken, but I had to report it

'cause the guy busted a window to get in.

Probably $400 or $500 to fix.

They don't make windows like that anymore,

so we special-order them.

Ah.

So this row is all about Greco-Roman art?

If you say so.

I'm not a librarian.

Take your time. - Thank you.

Thanks.

Hey.

Hmm?

Our killer knew exactly where to find Denise's sketchbook.

When I saw that mirror, I obviously

started wondering who was watching from the other side.

It's an observation room for scientists and psychologists.

And for inmates.

- Inmates? - Yeah.

Before you were hired, Denise's therapist

would have his other patients watch Denise sculpt.

How do you know that?

I found a pattern in the treatment logs.

See, whenever Denise was in here being filmed,

a simultaneous video for a separate treatment

was being shot in room O62.

Over the next few years, a dozen inmates

were put in that room on rotation.

I pulled the other inmates' files.

Psychologists called it fixation displacement therapy.

Let me guess--they were all stalker obsessive types

with mommy issues. - Yeah.

The aim was to transfer their obsession onto Denise

so that the doctor could observe it,

understand it, and control it.

But they never got to interact?

No, but I did find this.

They gave them her figurines.

- Yeah. Major ick. - OK, sorry.

This is assuming that Denise knows

about all this, which is a massive if.

But that still doesn't explain

how she convinced one of these 12 inmates

to go complete her life's work.

But somehow she did.

Hey, we just had a big break.

Same here.

Denise hid her sketchbook in the university library.

Her apprentice broke in three days ago to get it.

Now we just need to narrow down

a list of potential suspects.

Six confirmed dead, six unaccounted for.

Six is better than 12.

But how do we know which of the six

is Denise's apprentice?

Denise is still the only one who can confirm their identity.

And she is very happy to have us spin our wheels,

knowing that it gives her apprentice

more and more time to kill.

So then we use that arrogance against her.

Play into it somehow.

She would love to outsmart us.

I got it. OK.

We're gonna swap them all.

We'll label the dead ones missing

and the missing ones dead.

We'll see if we can provoke a reaction.

Let's have them all reprinted, OK?

- There she is. - Yeah.

On second thought, I think I would rather have

a vodka martini with a splash of vermouth.

And if you want to make me really happy,

then a little twist of lemon.

You are so enjoying this, aren't you?

Sure. Yeah.

It's been a while since I've been able

to flex my creativity even just a little bit.

Hey, Denise, did you enjoy being ogled

through the observation window?

I always imagined that it was some bored,

perverted scientist.

Women have a sixth sense of when they're being studied.

Don't we, Agent Henderson?

Some know how to use it to their advantage.

Oh, like by getting whoever was on the other side

of that mirror to find your plans and carry them out?

Is that what you mean?

We know there were blueprints.

So what was it?

A sketchbook? Journal?

"Muse Murders for Dummies"?

What do you have there?

We have identified 12 suspects

as your potential apprentice.

Oh.

Well, come on, then.

Let's see them.

Mm...

OK.

You know what?

Forget the twist of lemon.

I'll take it dirty.

Call for you.

- You saw that, right? - Oh, yes.

Her face said it all. That's definitely our guy.

Swapping the status was genius.

Craig Martin is Denise's apprentice.

At least now we know who we're looking for.

Problem is, can we stop him before he hurts someone else?

Hmm.

Deep lines.

Lines of struggle,

of survival,

of resilience.

You know darkness.

But there's a silver lining.

Rarely do I see a lifeline this long.

Hmm, you have such...

wonderful things ahead.

How long is your lifeline?

- Let go! - Tell me.

How long is yours?

I'd like you to leave--now.

One more thing first.

What is that?

Your future.

Wanna see?

Oh, no.

No.

Please, just go.

Craig Martin, the only child

of Elaine Martin, father unknown.

Elaine, on top of several citations for prostitution,

struggled with a heroin addiction

throughout Craig's childhood.

Little Craig got a front-row seat not just

to her drug habit but how she paid for it.

She was a junkie, man, turning tricks for a fix.

And me, I was the kid in the closet,

hiding while she got screwed by some lowlife

who couldn't even look her in the eye.

Some of the johns would give me a $5 bill, a candy bar.

Even they cared more than she did.

To her, I was just a stain on the mattress.

Just imagine who I could have been

if I had a mother that baked cookies

and tucked me in at night.

OK, I think we get the point.

Martin grew up with a severe attachment disorder

and serious anger issues towards women.

At 22, he started killing women he met on dating apps.

He'd obsess over them, stalk them,

and eventually rig their cars with explosives.

Charming, yet another reason I stay away from dating apps...

and men.

That all tracks.

Craig was a man with zero sense of self,

negatively defined by the women in his life.

And psychologists knew this, gave him someone to fixate on,

a mother figure,

someone that he could idealize.

Someone who could never reject him.

For a woman like that, he'd do anything.

Cause of death is asphyxiation by pendulum.

That's new.

Urania.

Muse of astronomy.

There's only one left.

Erato, muse of mimicry.

We're running out of time.

So then we go in there with everything.

We tell her we know it's Craig Martin.

It won't change anything.

Like she said, why would I betray someone

when they've been so loyal to me?

Then we have to play her game.

We have to drive a wedge between them.

No, you're right.

And I think I know how.

Does anyone know Photoshop?

Anyone, Photoshop?

All right, Denise, I hope you've had

a fun little sabbatical here.

But unfortunately, it's time to send you back.

What happened?

Well, we know who your apprentice is.

It's just a matter of time before we catch him.

- Oh, really? - Mm-hmm.

How?

Seems your apprentice just couldn't resist

making his own mark.

H63.

That's a Pit inmate number, and it belongs

to Craig Martin.

You gotta admire the balls on this dude.

Signing his work, taking credit for your project.

Mm, it's pretty typical of someone

with his anger issues towards women.

Ooh. - Oh.

Well, hey, either way, enjoy the ride

back to wherever it is they're keeping murderous psychopaths

these days. - Mm.

You ever think about becoming an actor?

Yeah.

For about a day after my seventh grade

performance in "Into the Woods."

I killed it.

But why did you leave?

It seems like you guys have her on the ropes.

It's all part of the plan.

One-on-one makes the suspect less defensive.

Now it's up to Bex to bring this over the finish line.

Denise, I get it.

Men have been taking credit for my hard work

most of my career too.

I don't want to go back into a box.

Yeah, uh, well, you're never getting out of prison

'cause the whole world thinks you're dead, so...

Yeah, but you could send me somewhere else.

Yeah, maybe.

You'd have to give us a little something in return,

like maybe where Craig Martin might be going next.

He's signing your work, Denise.

And when we catch him, because we will,

someone else will be remembered for your life's work

and you will be forgotten.

OK, fine.

Let your apprentice finish your work for you.

Let Craig Martin get all the notoriety.

If I tell you how to catch Craig,

you have to guarantee me that the world never

learns his name.

Deal.

The final kill honors Erato,

the muse of mimicry.

Back when I was teaching, the head of my department

liked to borrow content from my lectures

and claim that they were his own ideas.

His death was to be my pièce de résistance.

He was your mimic.

And whoever holds that position now

is about to meet my star pupil.

When you create art, you and only you

bring something to the world that speaks

to our shared experience.

What is he going there to do, Denise?

You'll see.

Four miles on the 163 and you'll be

at the university.

The current head of SLU's School of the Arts

is Professor Everett Fogarty.

You were right.

A narcissist like that, all we had to do was target her ego.

Let's hope Shane and Hassani get to him

before Craig Martin does.

Just got CCTV footage confirming

Craig Martin's on campus.

Morales, get Professor Fogarty on the phone.

Tell him to call campus security

and to lock himself in his office.

I tried his phone, but it's off.

He's teaching right now.

Wilson Hall, lecture hall two.

That's Denise's old lecture hall.

What? What's wrong?

I don't know. Something just feels too easy.

Craig Martin is on campus.

Our team will have him in hand any minute.

Mm-hmm.

What's not sitting right?

She's just--she's too calm.

She's smug.

Something's not right.

Our agents are at the lecture hall.

They're gonna stop Craig Martin.

- All going to plan, isn't it? - Yeah.

You know, there's just one thing

I don't understand, Denise.

Just the one?

Yeah.

Maybe you knew people were watching you

during your art therapy sessions.

Maybe you didn't.

But I do know that you didn't speak to Craig directly.

So...

how'd you get him to find the sketchbook?

Socrates knew that the job of a teacher

is to prompt the student to ask the right questions.

Finally, we're getting somewhere.

When you create art, you are contributing to the narrative

of life itself.

Is something wrong?

Please return to your--

Don't be afraid.

I'm here with a message

from Professor Denise Glenn.

So then you did have a direct conversation with Craig?

The Gestalt principle tells us

that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Put simply for a door kicker like yourself,

what that means is that the true message

of a final composition cannot possibly emerge

until all the pieces have been placed.

Hey, Denise, OK, we went through all the recordings.

You guys never spoke when the walls were...

up.

When the walls came down.

Gold star, Agent Henderson.

So, what, you were trapped? He came to find you?

Mm.

I'd never seen this man before in my life,

but he was like a little boy who just found Mommy.

He told me the hour a week he got to watch me sculpt

was his only reason for living.

He tried so hard to lift that piece of wall off me.

Oh, you should have seen him.

Desperate to save me.

It was kind of pathetic, really.

I mean, I was his whole world.

Which is how I knew

that Craig Martin would never take credit for my work.

It was how I knew that the photograph was a lie.

Because when my Craig is finished,

he will publish my book for the whole world to see.

"My muses grip humanity by the face

"and pry open their eyes,

forcing their raw"--

Everyone just remain in your seats.

This is the FBI.

Craig Martin, get on the ground!

Everyone get up. Stay calm. Everybody just get out.

Craig, put it down. It's not worth it. It's over.

Move towards the exit. Go, go, go!

Yah!

Craig, stop!

Good job. Good job.

OK.

We got him.

Good work, everybody.

- We got him. - It isn't over.

Craig wasn't just there to kill the professor.

Hassani, do you have the sketchbook?

Yes.

OK, find Erato.

Erato.

This is a sketch of this lecture hall.

But it's engulfed in flames.

Craig doesn't start fires.

He builds bombs. C-4 on timers.

What did he have on him?

Nothing except the book.

Guys, when Craig arrived on campus,

he was wearing a backpack.

There is a bomb in that backpack.

Find the backpack.

We got a little bit of a problem.

Florence, pull the fire alarm.

Guys, come on.

Tell us something.

We're looking.

What color is the backpack?

Dark blue or black.

That's pretty much all of them.

Hey.

Hey! Which one is it?

Tell me, or we all die.

I'm grateful for my place in history.

Hey, I found it.

OK, time to go.

I'll get the scumbag. - Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey.

This kind of bomb could take out the whole building.

There's six stories above our heads.

There are dozens of classrooms and lecture halls.

They'll never make it out in time.

Can you defuse it?

I'm gonna have to try.

Go. - No.

There's no way I'm leaving.

What? What are you doing?

You have a family.

This is what we do.

Guys!

I'm gonna cut this green wire.

You take that red one out.

But it needs to happen simultaneously, OK?

Copy. You know what you're doing?

Only one way to find out.

Ready? Three, two, one, go.

We're clear.

Mm. Whoa.

Come on home, boys.

It's been a minute since I've been in a situation like that.

Of all the places I thought death

would come for me over the years--

Kabul, Peshawar, Caracas--

gotta be honest, St. Louis was never on that list.

How about you?

How does this guy fall asleep so fast?

It's the soothing sound of your voice, buddy.

Aw.

How's your team?

Will you be sending flowers to their families?

Yeah, let me see.

I think the total body count was...

zero.

Because, well, we caught Craig Martin,

and then we defused the bomb, so...

- You're lying. - Am I? You sure about that?

- That's mine. - No, no, no.

This artifact belongs in the National Archives, Denise.

I mean, come on.

Look at this.

You can't let that go to waste.

Stunning work. I'm so sorry you didn't get to finish.

It's amazing.

You know where else this would look good, actually?

Might look good right here in the trash.

Aw, but don't worry, Denise.

I mean, think about it this way.

Most great artists, they're not recognized

in their own time anyways.

And then, well, some artists,

they're actually not remembered at all.

Bye, Professor.

Wait!

OK.

Not bad hand-eye coordination for a self-proclaimed nerd.

- Mm-hmm. - Now...

watch the real master at work.

Are these even regulation darts?

Yeah. Don't take it so hard.

My dad used to own a bar

and I'd smoke all my brothers growing up, so...

Hmm.

- Hey! - Nice work, you guys.

Well, we couldn't have done it without our shot callers.

Cheers to that.

Here, have a drink.

You earned it.

Oh, thank you.

- Hey. - Cheers.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

So we playing for money or what?

Yeah.

But I gotta warn you, Shane,

they're not regulation darts.

- Mm. - Nice.

Hey, got a minute?

Checked in with my people on the flight back.

We found the name of the biotech firm

that made the IV bag--

Whitmore Sciences.

Ever hear of them?

Run by some heavy hitter named James Whitmore.

Specializes in dual-use chemicals.

Silicon Valley, backed by hedge funds, the whole shebang.

But that is not what caught my attention.

That is Whitmore.

That's Senator Long from Wyoming.

And that...

AG Mallory?

Well, now we know why she wanted

to keep a lid on things.

Hey.

Sorry, I was busy losing money to a friend.

What?

After we talked, I went into my dad's old office.

What is this?

Who are you?

Hello, Denise.

You.

What do you want with me?

Well, you have something that doesn't belong to you.

No.

Don't do this. No, don't do this!

No! Ah--

I'm sorry, Professor.