Penny: So you lost the key in the Underworld and now want me to somehow go down there and get it. Quentin: Well, you’re my only friend who is technically dead so-- Penny: For the millionth time, dumbass, I’m not dead. I’m an astral projection. Quentin: No offense, but your corpse is ash, so I think you may be in a little bit of denial. I mean, look, weren’t you supposed to report to the Underworld branch of The Library anyway? Penny: Yeah, and I burned my body to avoid that. Quentin: Look, if we do not get to the Underworld before Benedict moves on--whatever that means--than we will have no idea where the key goes. Penny: Not my problem. Quentin: No magic is everyone’s problem. Do you think that I like begging for help, especially to you? I wouldn’t even do it except I know that you occasionally stop being a dick when the fate of the world is at stake. Penny: Fine. I’ll help.
Poppy: Anyways, do you think your ghost friend is going to be able to help us? Quentin: There is no us. I’m going to go talk to Penny alone, and you’re going to go back to whatever life you were willing to backstab me for. Poppy: Okay, I’m kinda sensing some hostility here. Eliot: Q! Quentin: Oh good. Hey, I don’t know if it was just a super anxious rabbit, but your message made things seem kinda-- Eliot: Dire? They are. Poppy: Are those supplies? Margo: Hostages. Who the fuck are you? Poppy: I’m Poppy. I’m helping Quentin find the next key. Quentin: No, she’s not helping me. We’re-- Eliot: Okay, can we hit pause on the recap until we’re back where our pasty usurpers won’t kill us?