So Toby walks into the kitchen and in Spencer’s fever dream he will be playing the role of Spencer’s angry Ravenclaw subconscious wearing a mask of Toby’s beautiful face. The answers he demands from her, every way he derides her for not being perfect, that’s her doing it to herself, see, which means later on she’s also going to make out with herself, which is … correct, actually. If I were Spencer Hastings, I’d scarcely find time to do anything else. Toby is investigating Ali’s murder because Spencer is investigating Ali’s murder. He glances over at her pills on the kitchen counter and hisses, “This started out as a job! It’s something else now, and you know it! You’re spread so thin I can see right through you!”
The next morning, Spencer hits up Rear Window Brew, where coffee is only 15 cents a cup and Ezra Fitzgerald is buying. It’s an apology of sorts, for the way he threatened her academic career and also to chop her up into tiny bits and fertilize the lawn of Hollis College with her remains like he did with Jackie Molina. She plays along, like oh, it was her fault, and she sometimes feels like constructive criticism is a thinly veiled death threat, and don’t even worry about it, mister. He invites her to dinner at the Heart and the Huntsmen so he can murder her while enjoying a delicious slice of pie and when she says agrees, he goes, “Cross your heart? Hope to die? Tell a pretty little lie?”
In the ladies room, Spencer tells Emily and Hanna about how Ezra bought her coffee and left a ten-cent tip, literally just droppin’ dimes. Hanna rolls her eyes and scoffs and says the more she sees of men, the more she wants to get a dog. She goes, “Too bad there’s not an alternative.” And Emily’s all, “Yeah, too bad. Maybe in 60 years, lesbians will be invented. Something to look forward to if we survive the war.” They discuss whether or not Aria is trying it on again with Ezra and since Hanna is president of the Man Hater’s Club, Spencer suggests she tail him and find out. Wonderfully, just absolutely wonderfully, Hanna goes, “I was born for the job.”
Aria busts into the powder room talking about, “Morning troops!” and for some reason I do not understand, black and white makes her eyes even bigger. They accost her about her trip to Syracuse, which Spencer absolutely knows she did not visit when she says she didn’t make it down to the Erie Canal Museum, a place Spencer has herself visited on more than one occasion. They bounce to go wrestle the world to its knees.
Spencer goes home and puts on the most glorious silk nightgown and floats around the house as if on a cloud, calling up the phone number from Ali’s stash of cash and finding out it belongs to the Fitzgerald Arts Foundation, which weirds her out but not as much finding out it belonged to, oh, I don’t know, a deranged old sorcerer living in the walls of a sorority house, doling out fortunes and paddleboard whippings and responding to all her correspondence via parrot. After Spencer hangs up the phone she eats more Adderall (in a dream fueled by Adderall! like some kind of Adderall inception!) and Toby catches her and starts squawking about it. If you’re so smart why do you need drugs? If you’re so smart why don’t you put together the puzzle pieces that are right in front of your face? If you’re so sm—JESUS H. CHRIST, WHEN THAT GET HERE?
That is an amazing painting of Alison DiLaurentis smiling down at them like a living Hogwarts portrait. Spencer goes, “If she stepped out of the frame, do you think she’d kiss me?” And Toby goes, “Yeah, and then she’d laugh right in your face.” (Spencer’s fugue state is the gayest thing I have ever seen in my life. Dream Spencer: I wonder if Ali would make out with me. Dream Spencer wearing Toby’s Face: Yes, but for a price.) Well, but there’s no need to ask what Ali would do if she came to life because she’s not alive; she’s dead, dead, forever dead. Toby doesn’t look convinced.