Charlie takes the frog with a casual "thanks" -- and he's had years to practice sounding casual, he's got it down pat -- and weighs it in his palm. The look he gives it is rattled depite his grin. He's surprised at how much he didn't like seeing someone else touching it.

This poker-faced guy gets points back for handing it over, at least. Taking on faith that he exists, it's not as if he could've known.

"Yeah, across time and fuckin' space," Charlie says, as if it's a shared joke. He doesn't try to keep the surprise out of his voice. He's turning the paperweight over; it's got all the right bubbles and imperfections, the right shape. It's the same frog, all right.

"Smart animal."