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?
