After the break, Ollie barges into his home, probably looking to grab his go-bag and hit the open road, but Lana's already there. She's doing that cool thing where you sit in an armchair in the middle of a darkened room and speak very evenly... and also you have a gun. (And once again, I think it's time to start talking about gun control in 1965, if an actual escaped mental patient can obtain a handgun on, like, three hours' notice.) She flicks on the light and informs him that the police have the recording (she keeps saying "the tape," as has everyone else for three episodes, but that doesn't seem like the correct terminology for a reel recording, does it?), so it's done. Thredson claims to be relieved, smirking that keeping secrets like that is not healthy. I can't tell if it's by design that I don't believe him or just actorly defect. Thredson heads over to the bar to make himself a drink, in defiance of Lana's orders for him to sit down. She still has the gun, still ostensibly holds the power, but I like the way the scene is slowly leeching the power from her. He goes on fixing his drink, knowing she won't risk her newfound freedom by committing murder. Also, the camera keeps cutting to these portentous shots of the ice bucket, the martini shaker, the drawer where Thredson gets the stirrer. We're being trained to look for whatever instrument Thredson will use to get the upper hand on Lana. Because we know he will. There's still three episodes to go this season and Zachary Quinto is the first-billed star. It's not if Thredson is going to turn the tables on Lana, but when.
While Lana waits to fuck it all up in 1965, present-day Dylan Face is finishing up his suckling. It's all dripping from his mouth. Hey, if I had to watch it, you have to read about it. "You'd be surprised how many men have mommy issues," Pandora observes. And if a lifetime of watching horror movies has taught me anything, it's that pointing out a depraved man's depravity to him is a great way to get yourself dead. Dylan Face does recoil at the terminology, but as he leans back with his cig, he admits he is fixated on "that cold bitch" who never loved him. Pandora tells him to tell her all about it, which seems like the worst possible idea in the universe right now, but okay.
"She didn't love my father," Dylan Face voices over as the action reverts back to 1965. "There was only one person she ever loved." Segue into Lana asking Thredson to tell her what he did with Wendy's body. She wants to make sure the love of her life gets a proper burial. Thredson flicks on the fireplace (another chip away at Lana's sense of control) and begins the tale. And oh, what a gruesome tale it is and we're lucky enough to see it represented visually. So Ollie didn't skin Wendy, which he says was a first for him. Personal growth? Well, no. He kept Wendy around first to taunt Lana with, but then to... practice on. Now that he and Lana were going to be a happy fucked-up family, he needed to be able to lie with a woman in the Biblical sense, so we see Ollie in his nightclothes making attempt after attempt to sex Wendy's corpse. He couldn't make it happen, however, because Wendy's cold, dead eyes were watching him. He considered plucking them out, because Ollie Thredson is a problem-solver, but instead he just turned her over. As my pal the Couch Baron pointed out to me, this is a hell of a way for Clea DuVall to pick up a guest-star check. Anyway, this method proved successful for him and he brags to Lana that practice with Wendy helped him get to the point where he could knock Lana up, so really, it's all one happy family act. Lana manages to not shoot his ass dead right here, which should be all the proof she needs that she can handle life outside of Briarcliff; instead she demands to know what he did with Wendy's body. Thredson dances around the issue, while staring meaningfully at the fireplace before admitting that he burned her, for the most part, and scattered what was left to the ends of New England.