[7:37] Ah, Jack's here. Has it been half-an-hour? Must have been the nice and easy 7:30 commute in Los Angeles.
Weaver.
How could Jack not tell he was being followed? Reminicent of getting his ass handed to him in the last season-opener.
Right hemisphere.
Closed head trauma.
Real-time updates on his progress... In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. Bleeding. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney. In a gurney.
No, STFU kid.
Someone who's not supposed to be alive.
Set you on fire, I hope.
I need you to trust me. By the way, Michael Jackson lives in Los Angeles. Just something for Diane to think about.
How are you doing? I'm off my medication.
"... make me feel." You know, sane.
I think that David was killed because my ears can pick up Russian radio broadcasts.
No access.
I am not making this up.
Also, Your necktie just bought stock in Microsoft and it can't tell your cufflinks the truth. Oysters, unite!
Delusions. Christ, President Logan is so painful.