Reading the In-House: Painkiller (1x12)
Painkiller
Air date: 12 January 2010
Cases of the week: The episode opens with Zach and Becca iChatting in Grace’s bedroom (if that sounds weird, remember that Zach’s computer had been moved to the family room so Alicia can keep an eye on him in 1x08). Meanwhile, a very stiff and formal Alicia interviews a very stiff and formal master’s student from Northwestern by the name of Molly Carling (“24, nerdy-intellectual, focused. A single mom’s dream of a nanny.”), who is interested in becoming a part-time caretaker for Alicia’s kids. (Have to add a note on colors here: Alicia’s wearing a red dress with a black top-the same scheme Kalinda had on in the second half of last episode-while Molly’s wearing a dark purple very close to the shade Kalinda wore in the first half of last episode. I smell a wardrobe conspiracy.)
Molly has just walked out the door when a tuxedoed Will calls Alicia on her cell. He’s just had a call from Memorial North, a hospital that signed with SLG a month ago, because “there’s a bit of a fluid situation out there involving a possible malpractice suit.” (Yes, “possible.”) Will patiently explains what a “heater” is: “a high-profile patient,” according to the show-but that definition is not found in the OED, Merriam-Webster, Urban Dictionary, or any other dictionary I could think of, nor have I come across the word used in that sense anywhere else (not that that necessarily means much). Meanwhile, Alicia sorts her kids out by hand gestures alone in a “silent little parenting dance”. As she finishes by shoving a social studies book into Zach’s hands, Will explains that it looks like an overdose and that he needs “someone” (viz. her) to get over to the hospital and “make sure…we have our ducks in a row.” He acknowledges that SLG has been “asking a lot” of her lately and offers to pass the case on to Cary. (We recall that last episode Alicia complained bitterly to Kalinda about Cary getting all the glory on the Roscoe case until that went seriously south.) She says she’s got it, which leads us to the interior of the hospital.
The camera follows Alicia as she walks through the emergency doors into a room crowded with people. One of the first we notice, thanks to being centered on screen, is a football player still in uniform, including cleats. As he walks off we see (through Alicia’s eyes) a group of people in shades of dark red ranging from crimson to maroon, among them several parents and at least three (possibly four) cheerleaders. Two of them, both blondes, are kneeling in front of a seated woman, who is looking more distraught than the rest. This whole group is taking up the center and right side of the shot. When the paramedics finally finish wheeling their emergency stretcher (apologies for the lack of technical terminology) off the left half of the screen, they reveal Kalinda, who is looking anxiously towards the camera. She immediately makes eye contact with Alicia, who seems a bit relieved to find a familiar face (especially Kalinda’s familiar face), and steps forward from the press of anonymous bodies. Now Kalinda’s not so big on the greetings, I’ll admit, but here are the first words out of her mouth: “Thank God. I thought he was sending out Cary.” (She sure knows how to make a girl feel welcome, eh?) Her line picks up directly on Will’s offer to Alicia to pass the ball to the younger associate, but it also reminds us that there’s a third dimension to the Alicia-Cary dynamic in the form of the investigator. It might not be a love triangle exactly, but it’s a relationship triangle nonetheless. And I’ll be damned if that isn’t genuine relief in Kalinda’s voice, showing us exactly where (much of) her loyalty lies.
Alicia, as often, is at a loss; Kalinda, as always, is not:
ALICIA: What’s going on?
KALINDA: Ben Bowers. Gables High* star quarterback, USC recruit, collapsed on the field.
ALICIA: How is he?
KALINDA: I think we’re about to find out.
*Script: “Woodland Park High”
Kalinda is positioned, as she has been since the beginning of the scene, so as to be able to see the ER doctor as he approaches. (Given her proximity to the intake desk before she stepped forward to greet Alicia, I suspect she was chatting up the nurses or even just keeping an ear open for pertinent gossip before Alicia arrived.) The doctor pushes past the two, a supposedly "grave look" on his face (though it looks more harried to me), and makes his way over to the distraught woman from before. As he passes, Kalinda turns to face the camera so that she and Alicia end up side by side. As usual, it’s a study in disparity: the shorter investigator all in black next to the taller lawyer in a heather gray coat. The buttons are reversed: gold for Kalinda, black or dark gray for Alicia. Both are wearing similar-looking earrings, and Kalinda has her lucky horseshoe (does she ever take it off?).
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds of speech from the ER doctor before Distraught Woman collapses in grief. If Alicia was beginning to sympathize with her earlier at first sight (as the script had her do, though it’s slightly less obvious on screen), she’s really in for it now: “Alicia finds herself moved by the scene: the cries of a mom.” After a brief moment of watching in silence, Kalinda speaks up: “Time to go to work.” Alicia lingers a beat longer, unable to tear her eyes away from Distraught Mom, before following Kalinda down the hall from which the ER doctor had emerged. The script originally had her react to Kalinda: “Alicia turns to Kalinda, surprised by her… indifference? Or is it just professional calm?” On screen Kalinda is already a few feet ahead by the time Alicia turns around, and we don’t see her visibly react to Kalinda’s line. Yet their body language throughout the scene is telling much the same story: Kalinda isn’t completely unmoved, but she’s no bleeding heart, and her demeanor shows she’s mostly inured to the tragedies that Alicia still feels as if they were her own. Kalinda’s attitude is certainly a demand of her profession, and I’m not sure we can read anymore into it here except as it contrasts with Alicia’s.
(A quick note on Kalinda’s arm movement around 3:07ff.: At first I thought Kalinda was physically holding on to Alicia or her handbag, as if to drag her physically away from the grieving mother, to whom Alicia turns back just before the next scene. My next guess was that Kalinda was holding out her camera to snap a picture of something surreptitiously. After reviewing the scene a few times, I don’t think it has anything to do with Alicia or photos at all. Rather, it looks like she’s moving her arm out of the way of the stretcher that is being wheeled past her on her right. It still strikes me as a little weird, and I don’t completely understand it, but I’m going to let it go unless someone else has a better suggestion.)
We switch to another interior shot, this time of an ER hallway. Kalinda is hot on the heels of Dillon Loomis, a corporate type affiliated with the hospital who is currently jabbering away on his cell phone; Alicia is following the both of them a bit farther back, watching Loomis intently. We learn from his side of the conversation that code was called at 8:35 and that the “in-house” (presumably not an investigator) called the police at 8:45. Meanwhile, a nurse pulls aside a curtain at a gesture from Loomis. Kalinda and Alicia pull up side by side, and we see that the investigator already has her camera at the ready. (A black point-and-shoot-not her DSLR, but far better for the purposes of discretion. A freeze frame from SD DVD isn’t good enough to get a make or model. For some unknown reason I’m inclined to say Canon, but we know that her DSLR is a Nikon [cf. esp. 1x07]. It would be unusual for a photographer to have one of each, and I get the impression that it would be equally strange for a show to use both Canon and Nikon in product placement. The script is no help. Anyone have a hi-def copy and care to take a look?)
Alicia’s clearly busy taking in the “ghoulish” sight of the dead seventeen-year-old on the table in front of her, while the sound effects tell us Kalinda is busy snapping photos. Another point where audience considerations have overruled character development: the sound effect we hear is actually added to point-and-shoots through software in order to mimic the sound of an SLR’s shutter. An experienced investigator such as Kalinda would have certainly turned off that feature-many camera owners do, even amateurs, since the sound tends to get rather annoying, especially when repeated shot after shot. But the artificial sound has been added back in here in order to alert the audience whenever Kalinda presses the shutter. I suppose it’s meant to be especially effective when we hear the “shutter” release over Alicia’s emotional expression and the close-up of the dead teenager.
Another point of divergence from the script here. When Alicia mentions that there’s only one shoe, Kalinda was originally supposed to look up, shrug (“so what?”), and continue to take pictures. That reaction is omitted in the episode, so that we go immediately from Alicia’s observation to Kalinda asking about the sports bag on a nearby table. The implication is now that Kalinda takes Alicia’s point and is perhaps going to look for the shoe in the bag. It’s more consistent with Kalinda’s character this way, since she should be the last person to dismiss a potential clue like a missing cleat. (In fact, an in-character Kalinda probably would have noticed the missing cleat first and figured out the "parking" issue earlier than Alicia, but I guess the show does need to showcase its title character every once in a while.) When Kalinda reaches for the bag, she uses her camera in one hand and a pen in the other to open the cover, being careful not to touch anything herself. There’s no shoe inside, but there is a pill bottle at the bottom of the bag, the label conveniently angled to display the name of the football player’s attending physician: Dr. Wesley. (Other information: Middle Woods Pharmacy. 11/02/09. Ben Bowers. Take every 4-6 hours as needed. No refills. Oxycodone 10 mg. Dr. Shawn Wesley.) Next to the bottle, which contains at least three white pills, are two other white pills stamped “818”.
Cue alarm bells. Kalinda interprets the stamp to mean 80mg, eight times the amount prescribed according to the label on the bottle. (We note, however, that the pills stamped "818" are not actually in the bottle and that it is impossible to see what markings, if any, the pills in the bottle carry.) Basically, 80mg oxycodone in a 17-year old = Not Good, especially when the prescribing doctor works for Memorial North and is therefore SLG’s client. In Kalinda’s words: “If you wanna know when this went south, this just went south.” Kalinda actually sounds a little worried here, in that “the client just got fucked, so now we have to clean it up” kind of way. She even spares a flicker of a glance over at Alicia, as if to impress upon her just how far “south” this thing has gone. Then she does some mental math aloud: “The cops are two minutes away. They take half-hour to call the detectives, another half-hour to find these pills. The doctor’s got about 90 minutes before he gets arrested.” Loomis excuses himself to get the board (sc. of directors) together, but Kalinda interrupts with instructions to get to the doctor to make sure he exercises his Miranda [rights]. At this point Alicia volunteers to go with him, now that she has something legal she can supervise, and Kalinda nods her assent, sparing a worried glance past the departing Alicia and Loomis before hurriedly shoving the sports bag closed.
Not a moment too soon: in walks Ryan Murphy-no, not the director of Glee; this one is a detective (“cool, laid-back, Mr. March in the cops’ charity calendar”). Behind him are two uniformed cops. His greeting to Kalinda comes off a little more resigned than friendly: “Kalinda. Somehow I should’ve expected it.” Her response has a similar veneer of politeness over subtle tension: “Murphy. Got here fast.” Their ensuing exchange is reminiscent of Kalinda’s past conversations with potentially dangerous members of the police. She keeps it a little more brief than usual and takes the first opportunity to hightail it out of there, leaving a dissatisfied detective behind. (Compare her conversations with Seabrook, around whom she tends to be a little more relaxed and much less wary of being turned in for doing something in the gray area of the law.)
MURPHY: It’s a heater on a Friday night. What’d you expect?...So you been documenting the scene?
KALINDA: Yep.
MURPHY: Yeah? Don’t suppose you want to focus my eyes on the salient details?
KALINDA: Now, where’s the fun in that?
Meanwhile, Alicia and Loomis walk back into the main reception area of the ER to find Shawn Wesley comforting Grieving Mom. As Alicia walks over, we hear Wesley apologizing profusely to the woman, offering as much comfort as he can. Alicia interrupts (politely, of course) and pulls Wesley aside to introduce herself and to explain the situation to him. She instructs him to go back to his office and not to speak to anyone, and as he walks down the hallway (in the opposite direction from the ER hall from before), Alicia spies the missing cleat (“size 13”). Her serious expression tells us this can’t be good.
[Zach gets “abducted” (voluntarily) by Becca and her friend Leah, but he rushes back to the apartment at Grace’s scream to find Jackie unconscious. End teaser.
Alicia visits Peter in prison to explain that Jackie’s had a stroke but is stable. (Also, egregious error in the script and the subtitles when Peter explains: “We bare [sic] the cost of a supervised visit.” Hate to think of where they’re hiding the cost that they need to bare it.) Among other things, Alicia notices the video camera turned on them and slips Peter the information about Childs’ wiretaps via a power of attorney form. Of course, she had to have known about the camera before she prepared the files for the visit, as there's no time in the scene for her to have written her note on the spot.]
Kalinda doesn’t appear to be present in the large conference room for Team SLG’s meeting with Dr. Shawn Wesley and the hospital. Alicia, however, arrives in time to find out that Wesley’s on the hook for murder. They determine that the case isn’t likely to go to trial-the charge was likely chosen simply to make headlines-and that they only need to figure out where the 80mg oxycodone came from, since Wesley insists that he only prescribed the 10mg pills.
The next scene reveals that Kalinda’s out of the office. Specifically, she walks in on the autopsy of Ben Bowers, the footballer, only to have Detective Murphy greet her with: “Ha, no way. You cannot be here.” She waltzes past him and sidles up next to a table where Medical Examiner Tom Li (“small, focused, non-confrontational”) is sorting through his instruments. She tosses the detective a dismissive “Hi, Murphy” in response. When he asks how she even got in, she blatantly ignores him (her “patronizing look” was cut) in favor of giving a friendly greeting to Li, who answers back with equal affection: “Kalinda, we miss you.” The investigator picks up the turkey-baster-looking instrument in a pan full of what looks like beaten egg yokes and asks, “What’s that, stomach contents?” “Don’t answer her,” Murphy says sternly to Li. To Kalinda (or rather, to her back) he says smugly: “Looks like you ran into the only cop who can resist your charms, Kalinda.” She again ignores him, choosing to speak to him sarcastically through the medical examiner: “Tell him about my sweet personality, Li.” Kalinda and the ME smile over the shared joke, and Li wanders back over to the body. When Kalinda points out “blueberries and sesame seeds” in the (supposed) stomach contents, Li adds: “flaxseeds and bananas.” Here’s someone who’s clearly on Kalinda’s side, antsy detectives be damned. As he speaks, he throws a pointed look at Murphy, who is none too pleased: “Li, what did I just say?” Cue a ridiculing expression and under-the-breath scoff from Li.
In the meantime, Kalinda has wandered over to Murphy and cozies up to him, wondering about his “take on the Florrick appeal.” He seems more willing to answer questions about this: “I just keep my head down. Someone ends up signing the checks.” “A street fight? My money’s on Florrick,” Kalinda says. “Same here,” Li interjects. Murphy looks noncommittal. When Kalinda asks Li to confirm it was the oxycodone that did Bowers in, the ME responds that it was alprozolam and ephedra as well, commenting that the “kid’s got a pharmacy in his stomach.” The detective, looking ever less pleased, again instructs Li to shut up. Kalinda, without a hint of delight, takes one last look at the body and faces Murphy straight on: “See how easy that was? Take care.” Murphy closes his eyes a second in defeat as she throws open the door and walks out. Li just smiles impudently at the detective.
Kalinda’s relationship with Murphy, as with everyone else she meets, is a kind of power struggle. Murphy isn’t even subtle about it. He blatantly attempts to forbid her access to the information she’s after. Conversely, she gives him zero help on the case and then easily procures what she needs from another source-one demonstrably and happily loyal to her-right in front of his nose. It’s true that she holds it over his head in the end with her final comments, but she doesn’t display even the tiny pleasure she showed when she beat Seabrook at the firearm gallery in the last episode. That was a friendly sort of rivalry, and she’s clearly still on decent terms with Seabrook even if she’s no longer on the inside. In this case we have two very different characters: Murphy, who claims to be able to resist Kalinda’s charm and who consequently ends up being given the run-around and having it rubbed none-too-gently in his face; and Li, who treats Kalinda almost as if she’s still one of his own. Murphy’s response about Florrick also suggests that it might not be worth Kalinda’s time to try to cultivate any sort of loyalty or even a sense of reciprocal “back-scratching” in him. Ultimately, Murphy is useless to her, and so it’s useless for her to spend the energy pretending or actually attempting to create a lasting working relationship with him. (Compare Kalinda’s treatment of Cary, who could potentially be useful to her in some way in the future; even though she devotes more time and energy to Alicia, she’d be a fool not to have some kind of hook in Cary. Murphy, on the other hand, is nonessential, since she can obtain the same information through other means.)
[Alicia pays a visit to Mrs. Bowers and gets the door slammed on her face before finally being let inside. When she spies Ben's gym bag, Alicia notes the name: Iron Muscle Gym.]
Back in a small conference room at SLG, Kalinda and Cary pore over files while Alicia faces away from the table to check in with Molly about the kids. The two of them (Kalinda and Cary, that is) can be seen conversing in the background while Alicia speaks to Molly. When Alicia ends the call and turns back to the table, Kalinda is in the middle of asking Cary where Bowers got the alprozolam and ephedra from if they agree that he OD’d on the oxycodone. Kalinda fills Alicia in on the kid’s stomach contents: in addition to the drugs, “flaxseeds, blueberries and bananas.” Seemingly out of the blue, Alicia asks about the hospital’s history of “parking” ER patients. Cary asks, “What do you mean?” “You know, making them wait,” she answers. “I know what ‘parking’ means,” Cary responds, “but what do you mean?” (This is, of course, a meta-like wink at the idea that the show has to fill the audience in on the meaning of terms like “parking” even when the characters ought to know without needing to be told. “Unnecessary” explanations like this happen on procedurals all the time to prevent the audience from getting lost in technical terminology and the like, but it seems to be a relatively recent phenomenon that shows acknowledge such explications as unnecessary.)
When Alicia mentions that she found the missing shoe in an empty ER ward, which led her to think the hospital might have “parked” Bowers, Cary reminds her that the hospital is their client, and Kalinda gets her worried look again. She knows that following up on the possibility of “parking”-not to mention actually using it to help defend Wesley-is going to get SLG into trouble with the hospital. Some part of her may also be ruing Alicia’s habit of sympathizing with the person (here Wesley and the mother) over the big business (the hospital). Which is, of course, a problem when you’re attempting to defend said big business. Alicia covers by noting that the missing shoe could constitute a source of vulnerability for the hospital, and Cary agrees that they should deal with it. He then asks what Alicia got “out of the mom”-prompting a rather intense look from Alicia-and when she notes that Ben Bowers worked out, Kalinda inquires as to the name of the gym. She notes that the contents of the kid’s last meal sound like a power smoothie, and Cary adds that “a gym’s a good place to score some ephedra.” Alicia and Kalinda give him matching looks, prompting him to defend himself (“I read an article”). Cue a shared glance between Alicia and Kalinda, ending with Alicia shaking her head to herself.
Cut to Iron Muscle Gym and a sweaty, out of breath Kalinda working a pull-down bar. She watches two men in conversation head towards a corner of the gym, and she begins to follow them, that little “gotcha” gleam in her eye until she notices that they’ve entered the one place she can’t go: the men’s locker room. With a purse of the lips (“Sighs. Knows what she has to do.”) she pulls out her cell phone (from where? I have absolutely no clue.) and begins to dial.
The next shot is still in the same gym, but a smug Cary has arrived on the scene, complete with over-the-shoulder messenger bag and earbuds slung across the back of his neck. “Something you can’t do yourself?” he teases. Kalinda stares at him blankly. “Poor little me, I need a man,” she responds, absolutely deadpan. Their relative positions as he stands over her and she lies back lifting weights is probably meant to be suggestive, but she’s always had the upper hand in this relationship, and she’s not about to let it go.
In the next scene they’re in slightly different positions: she’s sitting up, still lifting weights, and he’s sitting nearby, an earbud in one ear as he goes on and on about this girl:
CARY: She wanted to get engaged. Right out of law school. Her dad’s Patrick J. Brown. Do you know who that is?
KALINDA: No.
CARY: Oh, well, he’s Fortune 500. Semiconductors. But I said no. I mean, 26 and married.
[Cary’s glance is all over the place, regularly returning to touch on Kalinda, who’s at a 90-degree angle to him but staring steadily off screen more or less away from the junior associate. She’s clearly not paying attention to him, and he’d have to be an idiot not to notice that.]
KALINDA: Cary, you know I’m not listening to a word you’re saying, right?
Never let it be said that Kalinda is averse to the quick and painful route of dumping ice cold water over Cary’s head. Her eyes (via the mirror, it’s later revealed) are still on the men from before, who are looking awfully friendly (in that “let’s make a deal” way-get your minds out of the gutter!). Cary, finally noticing (or acknowledging) her gaze, gets up and moves behind her in order to “spot” her as she lifts a free weight behind her head. This is not the kind of weight-lifting that typically requires spotting. (If anything, now that he’s repositioned himself the only spotting he needs to do is to make sure she doesn’t drop it lest it hit him in a very sensitive location.) Of course, he takes the opportunity not just to watch the men she has her eyes on but also to touch her just under her right arm (it looks like her left in the mirror) and to ask her if she’s “seeing someone”. He’s all affability and charm; she’s all business.
Ignoring his question, she gives him detailed instructions: “When they go into the locker room, don’t approach him. Just watch the exchange, and I’ll make the approach later.” He in turn pretends to ignore her: “I’m sorry, did you hear my question?” She closes her eyes in exasperation (again), and I’m pretty sure she clenches her jaw. He decides to reiterate: “Do you have a boyfriend?” As the “Hulk doll” suspects head off to the locker room, she brings her weight back down to her lap and gives Cary a withering glare in the mirror. “Do I have a boyfriend?” she repeats in a tone that screams, “Shut up, Cary, and don’t ask personal questions if you ever want to be qualified to be someone’s boyfriend in the future.” (Those viewers who remember the Donna incident back in 1x04 and the more recent “Is-she-or-isn’t-she” dance last episode will be tipped off immediately by Kalinda’s repetition of Cary’s second question here, especially from the normally terse investigator. “Are you seeing someone?” is a very different question for Kalinda than “Do you have a boyfriend?”, although the difference goes well over Cary’s head, and the PI is making it clear which of the two she’ll be answering-naturally, it’s the one whose answer is least informative.) “Yeah,” Cary confirms, and we see that he’s placed a hand on her shoulder as she cranes her neck around to look up at him. She responds in the negative and nods back towards the locker room in the universal command for “get going.” He gives a smug smirk and heads off. She goes back to lifting weights, pursing her lips the tiniest bit and giving a faint shake of her head as she catches Cary looking back at her in the mirror.
In the locker room Cary sees a gym employee (his sleeveless shirt dubs him an “Iron Trainer”-the script identifies him as Trey Donovan) hand a so-called “new mix” in a plastic baggie to an anonymous client. Cary stops Donovan to ask him about “bulking up” at a cost. Trey responds positively and gives him a second baggie of what looks suspiciously like a drug cocktail. When Cary inquires, the trainer identifies it as a “homemade açaí-berry supplement.” Cary laughs-not exactly what he was going for. The trainer explains that he doesn’t sell drugs, and Cary gives him his number in case he knows anyone who does.
[Peter meets with Golden to discuss Childs’ wiretap.
Alicia meets with Wesley to decipher some of his illegible handwriting. (A job requirement, he jokes.) She inquires about the house call Wesley made the morning of Ben’s death, which had been in place of a hospital visit that had been scheduled for later that day during school hours. She then takes it to Diane, and they meet with Will, Cary, and Loomis. As representative of the hospital, Loomis decides to cut Wesley loose. Alicia is none too thrilled with being responsible for such an outcome; even worse, Diane instructs her to tell Wesley herself.]
Script time (noticeable changes as seen on air noted in brackets):
INT. COP BAR - NIGHT
Kalinda. She downs a shot, sitting in the booth of a cop bar. [Moved to end of scene]
KALINDA: Sorry to hear about your divorce.
Across from her sits GLENN CHILDS.
CHILDS: Thank you.
KALINDA: I was being sarcastic.
Childs stares at her. Sips his beer.
CHILDS: I want your help.
KALINDA: With?
CHILDS: Florrick’s appeal. Prior knowledge of [to] evidence he’s bringing, where and how he’s getting it; from whom.
KALINDA: How many investigators do you have in the State’s Attorney’s office, Glenn?
CHILDS: You have special knowledge. Working directly for Florrick.
KALINDA: That was a long time ago. I have a different job now.
CHILDS: Yes, and you know how to work two. [You can work two.]
KALINDA: (smiles) How much?
CHILDS: No money.
Kalinda studies him. Things getting serious.
CHILDS (CONT’D): I don’t think you understand how exposed you are on your past work with the state’s attorney’s office, Kalinda. The subpoenas stopped at Florrick only because I wanted them to stop at Florrick.
KALINDA: You’re trying to tie me to his scandal?
CHILDS: You’re tied [You are tied] to his scandal. I’m [I am] offering to keep the record sealed if [if] you get me what I need. That’s all.
Kalinda. She stares at him.
[The script puts this scene after Alicia informs Wesley about the hospital’s decision to cut him loose. In the actual episode it comes immediately before. I don’t think the sequence has any bearing on the cop bar scene in particular or on Kalinda’s character in general.]
The first thing we notice about the scene is the rattling of the train as it passes by (a shot of an L served as a transition from the last scene to this one). Then: Typical cop bar. The fact that the script notes it is important. This is Childs’ home turf now, but it used to be Kalinda’s. The change in home field advantage is obvious. They sit across from each other at a table, but she’s positioned more or less at one of the corners, about as far away from Childs as she can get. Even so, she’s not exactly afraid of him; her right forearm is actually stretched out on the table towards him, and she’s drumming her fingers idly. He’s all business, as we’ve come to expect: right hand on the table, left elbow next to it and left hand raised to his chin. Two beers between them. Some fancy camera work makes them look the same height.
While I wouldn’t call Kalinda afraid, she’s certainly wary, and we see her swallow repeatedly throughout this scene. He has her at a disadvantage, and she knows it. There’s silence for a few seconds as she tries to think of something to say. He’s content to let her stew. When the camera switches angles, we can see she’s actually pressed up against a wooden separator, her back to what is essentially a low wall. Childs is seated in the middle of his side of the table, seated at an angle to face her directly. Her left arm is resting along the edge of the table closest to her; her right hand is stretched out not directly towards Childs but a little to his left, fingers gripping the sides of a shotglass.
When she passes on her condolences about his divorce, Childs thanks her immediately. Both are only being polite, it seems, until Kalinda reveals she was being sarcastic. His grin is not amused, just a flicker as if to say, “Gee, how nice. I really shouldn’t [didn’t?] expect otherwise from you.” After a beat he stops keeping her in suspense and reveals that he needs her help. The way he says it, muttered and half-muffled behind his hand, makes it sounds as if he’s being secretive and perhaps a little ashamed at asking. Just the way Kalinda likes it. He’s more casual in detailing exactly what he wants, and Kalinda’s expression turns into a tight smile. She might as well be asking him if he takes her for a fool; surely he has no reason to come to her, of all people. He’s prepared his response: She has inside knowledge from previous experience. She knows this, of course, but she doesn’t want to be reminded. She wants the past-all of it-to stay dead and buried; she’s doesn’t want it to follow her around like an inerasable and inescapable mark on her CV. But Childs knows, and in his knowledge is power. He knows she worked two jobs in the past; he knows she can do it again. He knows (he thinks) that she’ll do it for him, so long as he has the proper leverage. Knowing that she’s still working for Florrick is part of that leverage, it seems. (Then again, even Archimedes thought he knew how to move the world-he just didn’t have the right tools.)
It’s all too fitting that Kalinda knows things are getting serious as soon as money is off the table. She doesn’t do favors for friends, unless they’re doing something in exchange for her. When she does something for nothing-has she ever done something for nothing?-it’s only under compulsion. Childs is asking a lot. It’s what gets her excited at the prospect of what he will pay her, and it’s what makes her do a metaphorical double-take when he says, “No money.” Things aren’t just serious, then-something’s wrong. He’s got something on her. And it’s something on record, something to do with her past work for Florrick. The plot thickens.
Continued in Part 2, because I broke LJ['s word limit].