Original subtitles

My name is Walter O'Brien.

I have the fourth highest IQ ever recorded: 197.

Einstein's was 160.

When I was 11, the FBI arrested me for hacking NASA

to get their blueprints for my bedroom wall.

Now I run a team of geniuses,

tackling worldwide threats

only we can solve.

Toby's our behaviorist.

Sylvester's a human calculator.

Happy, a mechanical prodigy.

Agent Cabe Gallo's our government handler.

And Paige? Well, Paige isn't like us.

She's normal and translates the world for us

while we help her understand her genius son.

Together, we are Scorpion.

In the past 24 hours, you have broken over two dozen

state and federal laws.

You've dealt Homeland Security

a public relations nightmare.

And you destroyed over $100 million

worth of private property!

Which is why you

ironically named geniuses...

The wrong use of “ironic.”

...are hereby ordered for psychological evaluation.

That evaluation decides your future.

From what I see,

you're too mentally unstable to handle this job.

Anything else

smart you want to say?

No.

So much for your little experiment.

And as the psychologist assigned to this case,

I will interview each member of your team individually.

You will take me through the events of the past 24 hours

and explain your decisions.

Happy to help however I can.

Lying is one hallmark

of antisocial personality disorder.

So, first off,

I suggest you be honest.

Honestly?

I'm looking at your diploma,

thinking I could have got into your Alma mater

when I was seven.

Let's start

at the beginning.

Okay, but first I-I should mention

that I also have a PhD in clinical psychology.

Perhaps our time would be better spent talking about you.

I don't think so.

Say more about that.

Ask me anything.

I'm an open book.

It all started yesterday.

One sec.

Oh, my God.

Okay.

All right.

From the beginning.

Well, it all began with costumes.

Hmm, do you have the summary document on our last job?

Good morning to you, too, Walter.

How are you today?

Oh, you prefer a different greeting.

Okay. Good morning. How are you?

Do you have the summary document on our last job?

I'll send it to you.

And thank you for asking.

I've been preparing for Ralph's

school Halloween party tomorrow, but he doesn't want

to go 'cause he has no one to go with.

Mm-hmm.

Come on, it's Halloween.

Exactly.

What does that mean? It's a holiday

based on 16th century traditions of warding off evil spirits.

It's not exactly progress.

To say nothing of contributions

to tooth decay,

juvenile diabetes, early death.

You asked.

Good news.

Your friend the governor has recommended you for a new gig.

And unlike the last few, this one's cushy.

The Westside Museum of Art

is having a new exhibit of a masterpiece by Franz Biermann.

I love his work. Never heard of him.

The Verstand Museum in Germany

owns the painting,

but while it's within our borders

it falls under the purview of Homeland.

We picked up some chatter on some dark-net sites.

It's a highly coveted target for art thieves.

We need you to upgrade the security systems at the museum.

I'll fill you in on the details on the way.

And Merrick granted your request.

What request?

This is great.

Traveling together will increase efficiency.

This is on trial loan from the department,

so go easy on it.

Cushy gig aside,

isn't security work a little below our pay grade?

The painting's worth a hundred million bucks.

How is $32 of paint and canvas worth a hundred million?

It's one of humanity's great achievements. It's paint and canvas.

Art critic Leslie Reinman calls it

“an exquisite rendering of late 19th century

“small-town tranquility

“whose rhapsodic gestures connote optimism

“and...

possibility.”

Um...

Are you okay?

My hypersensitivity and overactive emotional quotient

are at times triggered by works of art.

Don't tell me you have a problem

with Halloween and art.

They're both make-believe. All ascribed value.

I took a night school class

on Gauguin.

Ever seen his paintings of Tahiti?

They're mind-blowing.

Well, in the time period of the Biermann painting,

there were grain shortages and starvation.

That old woman looks like she has gout.

That ten-year-old girl-- middle-aged.

Hmm. You can't openly mock things

99% of the world enjoys.

If you want to grow this business,

take on private clients,

even be a functioning member of society,

you have to learn how normal people work.

Yes, but to what end?

You being more human could help us get more jobs

and improve relationships with superiors,

make my life more sane.

Think of it as an experiment.

I'll give it a try.

Geniuses have

low EQ, or emotional quotient,

hence their difficulty relating to us.

Sure, they have their issues, but they're also

brilliant and-and brave and special.

You're protecting your job.

If I thought they were unstable,

would I allow my son around them?

Your son... is them.

Thank you.

I think he's special, too.

Take me through Walter's behavior at the museum.

Um...

This is an exceedingly rare work

by an artist whose other paintings have all been destroyed

during World War II, so as curator,

its security is

my responsibility,

and forgive me for saying so, but...

they don't seem like typical law enforcement.

We're not typical

law enforcement, Dr. Paulson.

We're better.

Very excited to protect

your beautiful and important art.

Right.

Was that supposed to be normal?

Experiment's begun-- not bad, huh?

Terrifying.

Good luck with this.

Take a look at this.

He's getting awfully close to it.

Maybe he's enjoying it.

Walter may have some EQ.

No!

And...

I stand corrected.

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

I was doing my job.

Slashing a canvas is your job?

Or evidence of your lack of emotional maturity?

Both. I don't have emotions.

I read that in your file.

But how can you protect something

if you don't care about it?

I care about my paycheck.

I can't really tell if you're purposely being contemptuous,

of maybe you are unstable. Well, if you dismissed

every government worker who was unstable,

Washington would cease to exist.

Giving these responses,

how do you expect me to approve you?

I don't.

But to fail us would be to disregard the fact

that no matter how many people got upset,

my actions had a purpose.

I cut the painting to thoroughly examine

both sides of the canvas-- it was efficient.

Efficient? Are you out of your mind?

Do you have any idea how much this painting is worth?

Yes-- as I said, nothing.

It's a fake.

And there are several reasons why

we knew this, starting with Paige.

She loves this artist.

Seeing the painting should have made her happy.

But when she looked at the painting,

she displayed the same repulsion markers

our sense of smell gives us

to rotting meat when it exudes an odor.

Her subconscious instinctively knew

something was off, but she didn't know what it was.

Then I did a quick count of the brushstrokes.

There's one thousand, three hundred

and eighty-seven,

which is

48 less than the original.

And...

the type of nails in the frame

weren't even manufactured until four years

after this painting was supposedly made.

Rotting meat...

brushstrokes...

and nails?

That's all you had to go on

before you destroyed a masterpiece?

A fake masterpiece.

He's right.

Special Agent Carey, FBI Art Crimes.

We just analyzed the paint

and carbon-dated the frame.

The painting is a forgery.

Thank you for repeating

exactly what I said 63 minutes ago.

That is a lovely windbreaker.

We may be able to I.D.

the forger by fingerprints left in the paint.

Well, you won't find any fingerprints in the paint,

because this painting wasn't made by hand,

it was made by machine.

A forgery of this quality made by a machine?

Not possible. You're right.

It's not possible, it's certain.

Since there's no longer a painting to protect,

I'm gonna ask you... to leave.

We very much thank you for the opportunity to...

Go.

How else was I supposed to tell him it was a fake?

Perhaps by saying, “It's a fake.”

When delivering bad news, most people try and do so gently.

Waste of time.

How'd the knife work for you?

Miraculously, Special Agent Carey

wants you to stay on the case.

So she appreciated my efforts.

She found you smug, arrogant

and several other choice adjectives.

But the FBI is lacking expertise on this technology.

Explain your theory.

Thrilled to help anyone who thinks we're smug and arrogant.

The force of a human hand applying brushstrokes

would result in tiny broken canvas fibers.

But that canvas was perfectly intact.

Only a machine arm could paint so delicately.

Plus, the mathematical patterns in the paint were so precise

that they couldn't have been executed

so flawlessly by a human being.

So, we follow the technology to track down the forger.

And I'll have Art Crimes investigate

who swapped the original for the fake, and when.

We know the original was authenticated

by Customs at LAX at 6:42 this morning,

so we know the swap occurred sometime after that.

But they'd have to canvass airport staff, art handlers,

transport personnel-- Th-that could take days.

Well, the problem is,

most stolen art leaves the country

within 24 hours, never to be seen again.

I know someone who can help us track it down,

but I want you all on primo behavior.

A fake Biermann?

Does no one have any respect?

Real or fake, it doesn't matter.

If the people looking at it can't tell,

what's the difference?

Believe me, I know.

Tell me about your machine theory.

In order to create a high-quality forgery

using a machine,

you'd first need a three-dimensional scan

of the painting,

capturing every detail

from the brushstroke direction to the thickness and volume

of the paint.

Then a spectral camera would create

an algorithmic breakdown of the colors,

to be mixed by the 3-D printer and applied by machine arm.

But first the forger would need

an extremely high-res image of the original.

Do you know how we can get our hands on one?

When I was a costumer in London,

I used to visit the Royal Stuart Museum.

They keep digital images of major artworks.

Those images have high enough resolution

to be used by the forgers.

I'll just hack in.

Or... you could use my account number.

Thank you.

Unfortunately, the Biermann's been stolen before.

This is the actual provenance of the painting.

“1936, Eckhart Mueller, a Jewish shoemaker

“from Warsaw, buys the painting directly from

“the artist Franz Biermann.

“1942, the Nazis seize the painting from Mueller

and send him to Auschwitz, where he's murdered by the SS.”

“1946,

“the Verstand Museum takes possession

“of the painting.

“Since then three generations

“of the Muellers have tried

unsuccessfully to get it back.”

This family has spent a lifetime

trying to get this painting back.

Art has meaning.

Found the image.

4K resolution.

More than enough to create the forgery.

According to the manifest,

this file's been downloaded by

Ecole des Beaux-Arts students,

art book publishers and once by

somebody from... Galactic Toys.

Oh, here we go. Okay,

Galactic has the greatest superhero pantheon in this

or any other universe,

including my personal favorite, Super Fun Guy.

I'm getting to it. Walter,

I'm getting to it, okay?

They manufacture these little masterpieces

using state-of-the-art, cutting-edge

3-D printers and scanners.

They have everything one would need

to create the perfect forgery.

The forger must work there!

And he is so... lucky.

We'll scan their network

and I.D. the employee on the way.

Thank you, Hetty.

Thank you. It, uh, was an experience.

Okay, guys, come on! Let's go!

I've never seen him move so fast.

Okay, Galactic Toys.

The I.P. address and LAN subnets have narrowed it down to...

ten employees, four of which work

in administration, which means they lack the skill set

to even run the technology.

Well, eliminate anyone with a title of VP or above.

They wouldn't risk their pension

on criminal activity.

Well, that leaves five. Only three

have art backgrounds. That one!

Look at that knockoff designer sweater.

He doesn't care about the difference between real and fake.

A man after my own heart. Phil Daniels.

Married, three kids.

Needs money, has ability and motive.

Hey, Cabe, I'm gonna go with you.

You're all staying here, and that's an order.

I'll be back in ten minutes.

He's been waiting for this his whole life. Well, then he should

be used to it. I don't need a bunch of geniuses

to help me detain an unarmed artist.

Could you at least get me a Super Fun Guy T-shirt?

He's really... Cabe, he's really fun!

I am 50 feet from Valhalla, but I might as well be 50 miles.

Maybe you should emulate Sylvester.

He might be extreme, but at least... he emotes.

That is not ideal to me.

So if Walter

has no emotional quotient, you have...

Infinitely too much.

What are you looking at?

That bookshelf's not anchored.

If there was an earthquake, it could fall,

it could crush you, causing massive trauma, a concussion.

Plus, I wouldn't want to see any of that blood.

I'm sorry.

You asked me a question?

Does your anxiety hinder your ability to do your job?

And if so,

how can you work on this team?

Well, because of Walter.

He keeps me out of my head, keeps me focused on the work.

But if I were you, I would...

I'd just move the chair just, like, a couple inches.

I don't get it.

Because the parrot has a hat on.

Oh, that's funny. Uh, technically.

It's funny completely.

No. Break it down logically,

bringing a parrot into a bar makes no sense.

You're disappointed.

Just starting to see the scope of what needs to be done.

In the meantime, I can still solve this case.

Cut him off at the corner.

Okay.

I'll get Cabe!

It's faster to call him! What?

I can't hear you!

Hey! Hey!

Stop! Stop! I'm a federal agent!

Hey!

Are you working out some issues?

Shh!

Ow.

Hey! Hey!

I can't...

I looked

everywhere for you.

Are those chicken feathers?

This is all fixable.

Whether or not I'm stable-- fascinating question.

I've personally treated many mentally unstable people.

Dated some, too.

You're trying to game me again, Mr. Curtis.

Answer my question.

I'm rock steady. The only reason

we disregarded Cabe's orders

is because we had to chase Daniels.

He could have led us to the painting.

Through busy downtown streets.

Government employees are supposed to protect property,

not destroy it.

You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

That's not a metaphor.

I'm just stating a fact about breakfast.

You know another sign of antisocial behavior?

Witty humor?

Addiction issues.

That's my favorite kind.

All I know is

I'm in good hands in the employ of Walter O'Brien,

one of the most intelligent human beings in the world.

From my file, it seems like you're in competition with him.

No. He's infinitely smarter than both of us.

When I met him, I was gambling

every night, in jail pretty often, too.

I'd still be there if it weren't for Walter.

He's pretty exceptional.

Don't tell him I said that.

You spooked him.

He won't talk. The FBI gave us one hour with him

and we're at zero.

That's what happens when a guy gets chased

by a bunch of weirdos in a van covered in chicken feathers.

The FBI searched his house,

his storage locker, his records, everything, turned up nothing.

The painting's worth $100 mil.

If he doesn't talk fast,

we'll never see it again.

Give me 30 seconds with him.

So, Agent Gallo in there thinks you stole the painting.

I know you didn't do it.

Well, finally,

someone who believes I'm innocent.

I didn't say you're innocent.

You graduated CalArts nine years ago,

dreaming of becoming the next Picasso.

Then you had a few small shows, but...

the decision makers in suits didn't get your brilliance.

Then you slipped one past the goalie with your girlfriend.

Diapers are not cheap.

So you took a job with Galactic Toys.

It's hard to believe you've been there nearly a decade,

watching your dreams slip away. But the calluses

on your right thumb and middle finger tell me you still

paint every day.

You're an artist.

All artists want the same thing: recognition.

So when someone offered to pay you to forge a painting,

that felt good.

Finally, someone recognized your skill.

In fact, you could have done that whole thing by hand.

You only supplemented your skill with a machine

because they made you.

I want a lawyer. Sure,

that'll convince people you're innocent.

Whoever paid you to make that fake

stole the original themselves, making you an accomplice.

Whoa.

I was hired to make a copy of a painting,

which is not illegal.

What the guy did with it after that is his business.

The irony is

he's not gonna take the fall for it-- you are.

Just give me his name.

Jacques Labeaux. Real estate tycoon.

Friend of the mayor. He paid Daniels to forge the painting.

Most of Labeaux's online accounts

were impenetrable, but we discovered

that he pays two electric bills,

one for his main house

and one for a separate climate-controlled room.

It's a wine cellar.

No, that's not a wine cellar.

Look at the electricity usage. It's a huge room.

Much more suitable for... storing art.

Gonna have to trust Happy on this one, Toby.

Trust me on this, Walter.

We're talking wine, one of my specialties.

Doesn't really matter right now.

All we have is the word

of an admitted forger.

We'll never get a search warrant with that alone.

I'll call in some favors

and see if I can't get a wiretap,

but that'll take some time.

You hang tight until you receive further orders.

I'll update you as soon as I have something.

Okay.

So Labeaux commissioned the fake,

so we have to assume he has a real painting.

Chances are he's trying to move it.

Any idea on his whereabouts?

Uh...

I'm digging,

I'm digging... Okay, got some thing.

He's at home, preparing for

a big charity gala tonight. Guys!

This is happening right now.

He'll be hosting hundreds of people,

three bars, live music...

And us.

Cabe told us...

Cabe is gonna cost us an opportunity.

Are we really going to smuggle

a painting out during a party?

There will be equipment coming in and out,

trucks, commotion...

The whole thing could be a subterfuge

to try and smuggle that painting out of the country tonight.

Now, Happy, Toby...

you'll slip in,

try and locate that painting.

If you can't find it, then,

we're gonna need all the details that we can get

on Labeaux and his business dealings.

Paige, I'm gonna hack us onto the guest list.

Try and get as close to Labeaux so we can clone his phone.

Sly, you'll QB from the van.

Without Cabe, we won't get the gear we need.

And I have nothing to wear.

I am not being a diva. I was a broke waitress

six weeks ago. I literally have

nothing to wear for a fancy party.

I know someone who can help on both fronts.

You were smart to come back.

This party, I'm sure, will have

a fashion-forward crowd.

And in the wrong clothes, you'd be

spotted immediately as fakes.

It's Halloween weekend.

Why isn't Labeaux having a costume ball?

'Cause rich people are smart.

They know that Halloween is foolish.

Aren't you a ray of sunshine?

And I'm a waiter.

Wow.

Sometimes I even surprise myself.

Is this okay?

Brava.

Really?

Yes.

You silver-tongued devil, you.

Well, what about... what about, what about me?

Well, you're in the van, so

you can wear your stupid shirt.

Yes.

Uh, do you have any

Halloween costumes for a nine-year-old boy?

Like a... like a zombie or a ninja or

a pirate?

Um, I'll keep looking.

These comm devices

are on an encoded frequency.

There you go.

And there.

Thank you.

Out you go.

Before I start to regret

loaning you my things.

I've never been to a party like this.

Don't worry.

We'll fit right in.

Thank you.

Of course.

Sorry.

There you go.

What about the guest list?

Oh, I took care of it.

Last name?

Gauguin.

Looks just like my apartment.

Focus.

We may never recover that painting

unless we get Labeaux's data, wherever he is.

Mesdames et messieurs, bienvenue.

I'm your host Jacques Labeaux.

And tonight we will be raising money

for the Arts Are Fundamental Charity.

I hope you'll all open your hearts

and your wallets

for this great cause.

For is there

any more noble pursuit than the arts?

Science, mathematics,

professional wrestling, anything besides art.

You're missing the point about art.

Happy and Toby are in position.

Here, time to go, time to go.

...literature, writing, music.

Alarm off

in three, two, one.

I'm unlocking the door.

To get to the storage locker, take the northwest

stairs to the basement level.

Now, to clone Labeaux's phone, we have to get this

within five feet of him

for three uninterrupted minutes.

Easy. We'll just stand near him.

Where'd he go?

Oh. I don't know.

Got him.

Oh. Let's dance next to him.

Come on. There has to be a more efficient way.

This is the most efficient way.

I don't dance.

Here's the storage locker.

It's a 96-bit triple-encrypted

TD9 lock. Do you know how

impressed I am when I have no idea what you're saying?

Remind me to dumb it down next time.

You ready?

- No. - You need to stay within

five feet of him for three minutes starting now.

We're a couple, remember?

Do you know where to put your hands?

You're not pushing me on a swing.

Lower.

Lower.

Put your hand lower.

Good.

Keep it there at the small of my back.

Oh, it's not bad.

It's easy, right?

Basic mathematics.

Count the beats, four-four time,

uh, 76 beats per minute.

That explains it.

We're in.

It's a wine cellar.

Do you know why geniuses can't dance?

'Cause we have two left brains.

Walter, did you just make a joke?

I used wordplay to manipulate a common phrase.

Well, it's a start.

I think your experiment is starting to work.

Download

will complete in 15 seconds.

Oh, no. Malfunction!

Walter, the cloning device reset! You have

to start the download all over again!

We have to keep dancing. Okay.

May I cut in?

I can't not dance with the most beautiful woman at my party.

90 seconds.

Stall, Walter.

Oh, well,

if it's all right with you, honey.

I-I'd be delighted.

I'll-I'll just be over there, honey.

Okay. How much longer?

80 seconds and counting.

It's a cover. No one keeps

such fine vintages this cold.

It's not just a wine cellar.

There's got to be a door or cabinet or something.

How much time left?

30 seconds. Will you stop asking?

That's, like, the fourth time.

What's gotten into you, anyway?

This was recently installed.

It's got to be hiding a secret door.

No door. Come on.

Walter, we got it.

Okay.

Excuse me.

May I?

Merci.

Okay.

Download complete?

Download complete.

There's nothing behind there. No.

No.

Oh.

It's just a wine cellar.

What was that noise? Oh, no.

Somebody go check that out.

Someone's coming.

That's the only exit.

What's going on?

Time to go.

Sylvester, we're about to get made. Do something!

I'm on it.

Go, go, go, go!

Go, go, go, go, go, go!

What happened to you guys?

We got out through the kitchen, I ran into

a giant cake.

I don't want to talk about it.

We didn't find the art, but we cloned the phone.

Step on it!

It was an easy mistake.

How could I have possibly known that was a wine cellar?

The painting could be somewhere else in the house.

No, not anymore.

By now, Labeaux's found the broken wine bottles,

he knows someone's hacked into the power.

He knows we're onto him.

He's gonna try and move that painting fast.

Sylvester?

You search his call history?

Art world's supposed to be rarified air,

but instead it's full of thieves.

This guy stole it from the museum,

who stole it from the Mueller family.

This is supposed to be the intellectual elite?

I thought you didn't care about art.

I'm faking. Remember?

Sounds awfully real.

Somewhere along the line,

you had a breakthrough. You're improving.

Okay, Labeaux made

half a dozen calls to one number in the 48 hours

before the original painting disappeared.

The name is encrypted, but I think I can break it.

In how long?

That long.

And I thought I didn't like him

'cause he was a know-it-all art jerk.

Here's an e-mail from Labeaux to Paulson with

his bank's routing and account numbers.

Labeaux provides access to the fake,

Paulson provides access to the original.

We didn't find the painting at Labeaux's because he never

had it. Paulson does. As curator, he could

easily pull this off. He plans all the museum's exhibits.

The Biermann's worth nine figures. He wouldn't

move it by air. There are more security gaps at the docks.

We'll call Cabe from the van.

Paige.

Take this to Hetty.

It can't be discussed over the phone. She'll understand.

What's this about? Read it, you'll see.

Oh, I'm gonna need to take your car as well for the Wi-Fi.

You take the van. And hurry.

I appreciate it.

I never thought I'd hear him say that.

Safe to say this is when the mission went

from the frying pan into the fire.

Safe to say anything

you want, unless it pisses me off.

You're guilty of breaking and entering,

trespassing, larceny.

Do you even think how Walter puts all your lives at risk?

We're geniuses. All we do is think.

Ever think about how none of you

have anywhere else to go?

Especially you.

Since, from what I can tell,

you have no family to speak of?

There's always a plan,

and we follow it because we believe in Walter.

And besides,

as soon as we knew the play with the curator,

we called our superior.

- Paulson? The curator? - We've got him, yeah,

we're on his tail right now. We surveilled him, followed him

to his house, where he put the painting in his car.

You went through private property

without a search warrant.

Anything you saw is inadmissible in court.

Actually, it is admissible,

because we're not working at your behest.

We're operating as private citizens, so the more

we defy you, the more legal it is.

That's good to know.

We got to remember that for next time.

All right, I scanned the manifests

at the San Pedro docks.

There's one ship leaving for Shanghai in an hour.

And guess who booked space in the cargo hold.

Paulson.

If that boat leaves with the painting, it's gone.

We're accessing his car's operational mainframe. Okay,

meet us on the 6th Street Bridge.

We'll cut Paulson's engine.

All you have to do is arrest him.

You'll find the stolen painting in the trunk.

No drama, no high-speed chase, no risk.

Okay, but

do not engage.

We don't want to endanger the public.

We'll keep it safe. Just like the painting.

Use the built-in Wi-Fi.

Got full bars.

We're in.

We got control of his car.

Cutting engine power.

Raising engine temp.

You're under arrest.

Painting's in the trunk.

Agents are en route,

they'll take it to the museum.

Another unit is apprehending Labeaux right now.

Well done, guys.

You sure know your tech.

Oh, no, the painting.

That might be our fault.

Something must've gone wrong with the frequency

- or the F6 diode or... - I don't care. What I

care about is this.

And you destroyed a $100 million painting.

Where are you going?

Well, I told you the whole story, so we're done.

Forensic gave me your cloning device.

I carried it in my bag, I jostled it.

I even dropped it. Not once

did the device accidentally reset.

Which is why I find it odd

that it got reset while you were dancing with Paige.

It was probably some radio wave interference.

Know what I really think happened?

You enjoyed dancing with Paige.

Holding her. Being close.

You didn't want it to stop,

so you reset the device yourself.

You risked

the entire mission

to dance with her for 30 more seconds.

I would never jeopardize a mission.

I have met with all of your team.

They rely on you, they defend you.

They're brilliant, they're talented,

and all I've ever tried to do is protect them.

Together we can do things that no one else can do.

And it's up to you to decide whether you'll allow us

to keep doing that. Now, excuse me.

Okay, so I ran the potentialities, and the

likelihood of us passing this test is very low.

All right, the good news is, either way, we got this.

It would pair beautifully with

a leg of lamb, but given our higher-than-normal

anxiety levels, I think we should pop this open right now.

Guys.

You passed.

Aah! Oh.

Yeah!

Give me some. Yeah, let's go pop this.

Good idea.

Enjoy.

So, um...

Dr. Davis thinks we're okay?

Well, I wouldn't go that far. She passed you

because, and I quote,

“Mr. O'Brien seems to believe that lying

“to a federal psychologist is justified

“so long as the job is done.

“However, his deeper motivation

“stems not, as he states,

“from a desire to complete his mission,

“but from empathy for his team members.

“He has created for himself

“a purpose,

“and for each of them,

“a family.

“A safe haven.

A place to reach their potential”"

Doesn't sound like you.

That hurts.

I doubt that.

But it got me thinking about some things

that didn't make sense.

Like when you hacked Paulson's car

and it didn't exactly work as planned.

Well, technology's not always reliable.

It is when you guys do it.

So then I went down to the evidence locker

to look for the fake painting. Couldn't find it.

I don't know how we'll build

a case against Paulson and Labeaux without it.

This isn't the first time they've done this.

Their records will lead you to all of their other stolen art.

Your case will be airtight.

And if I had Forensics test the ashes of that painting,

would it be the fake or the original?

Forensics won't reveal a thing about

the painting's authenticity,

'cause it was completely destroyed in the fire.

And if I were to call the Mueller family,

would they be particularly happy?

Danke.

Thank you.

Let's keep this between us.

Oh, don't hang it near your window, Mrs. Mueller.

I'll walk you out.

No one will know about this? Not Interpol.

Not Cabe. No one.

Before, you said

that painting was meaningless.

Now you broke the law

to return it to its rightful owner.

I grew to appreciate its, uh...

subtle beauty and

lyrical composition.

Fine. I still don't get it. You know,

I saw how Duke Guillaume

looked at Countess Stephanie.

And I saw the way you

looked at Paige.

Something made you understand

that family's connection to the painting.

Something.

Or someone.

Everything happened like I said it did.

For real.

Hello? They said we should come in here.

Come on.

Hello?

I guess you don't hate Halloween after all.

Oh, we still hate it. But we love Ralph.

We were hoping we could tag along to your school party.

Hmm.

My highly tuned facial recognition skills

tell me that is a yes.

Hmm. All right, let me guess

who's who.

Super Fun Guy.

No surprises there.

Uh...

Sigmund Freud?

Ah, precisely.

Which means I'm dressed as a hack.

Meow. Every girl does that costume.

And it's still hot.

I give up.

Agent Cabe Gallo.

Okay. We also cooked

something up for you. You come with us, big man.

Oh.

So let me get something straight.

Art makes you feel nothing, yet you

lied to your superiors and risked your job

in order for us to return the painting to its

rightful heirs.

You also think Halloween is nonsensical.

Mm-hmm. And yet you

took time off work to get dressed up

and go to Ralph's party.

For a guy who says he has no feelings,

you sure are sweet.

Eh, it's just a costume.

Oh, my God,

that's the perfect costume.

Yeah.

I thought you'd like it. Hey, come on, we got

a party to catch.

You know, Ralph, uh,

Halloween started off as a day

to ward off evil spirits. Isn't that stupid?

Yeah. Yeah.

But who cares? Let's go get some candy.

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

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