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South shows up on Sunday, but the set’s empty. He goes home. They’re leaning on a van. He catches a familiar duffel bag.

“This is mine,” he says stupidly.

“Shouldn’t keep your key in that fake rock,” Seven announces.

“We couldn’t find any clean underwear,” grins Rebecca, “so I bought you some–”

“You what,” says South.

“You needed underwear!” says Seven. “For the kidnapping!”

“The network–”

“Won’t tell us anything for a week,” says Rebecca. “We’re going to the beach.”

Seven hauls open the door.

Then it’s Dandy Warhols on a boombox, the stereo’s broken, and three hundred miles to Coronado.