So as Sister Jude changes out of her habit and into her street clothes, becoming once again plain old Judy Martin, Arden places a cloth over Charlotte's eye and performs that sickeningly familiar spike-through-the-eye-hole procedure that has come to represent the lobotomy in our culture. Seriously, HOW DOES THAT WORK WAIT DON'T TELL ME. The music goes all crazy Douglas Sirk as the lobotomy switches to Sister Jude applying harlot-red lipstick at a dingy bar; back to the lobotomy, back to Judy Martin at the bar getting picked up by a strange man; back to the lobotomy, back to Judy lighting up a flirty cigarette. Two brand-new women being forged right before our eyes.
After the break Thredson returns home with Lana, who's like, "Cool! Thanks and all, but maybe I should go to MY home." Thredson -- who would like Lana to call him Oliver, so Ollie it is -- says that home is the first place they'll come looking for Lana. He tells her first thing in the morning, they will go to the police and get to the work of shutting Briarcliff down. He tells her to relax and he's going to "prescribe" a little something to take the edge off. She nervously says she doesn't want any more medication, but he's all, "I mean wine, silly!" Everything's great right now! Good times.
With Thredson out of the room, Lana gets some time to look around the place. Thredson's home is essentially Don and Megan Draper's swank '60s pad from Mad Men, so it's a pleasant view all around. Here's where the hyper-stylized direction of this episode really pays off, by the way. For once, the camera is flat and steady and relatively calm, which makes everything else seem WAY too still. And quiet. It's utterly chilling how quiet things got. She goes to make a phone call, but Thredson's hand comes from off-screen to hang up. "No calls," he says amiably. After all, he's at risk here, too. They can't get caught before they go public tomorrow. Lana says she was just calling a friend to ask after Wendy, but she finally sits down with her wine and accepts Thredson's flattery. He says she's going to win a Pulitzer for her piece about the asylum. "You're the person to tell my story." I feel like lightning should have crashed outside for that particular line. RED FLAG all over the place.
And the thing is, Lana totally catches on. She knows something is weird. But she's in the guy's house already and a freakout will do her no good, so she just kind of changes the subject and toasts to "taking down Briarcliff." Then ... oh, then. Then Thredson turns on the lamp, and the camera switches focus to the lampshade, which very clearly and obviously has two darkened areolae on it. And, look, I'm no expert in '60s home décor, but I am almost positive this clashes with basically everything in the room.