But Rebecca's life is far from perfect. She lies the pool outside of her palatial home, wincing as someone waxes her eyebrows. I pause the tape to recover from this horrific glimpse of the Hollywood lifestyle. When I hit "play" again, her beautician tells her about facial liposuction, explaining that "you have to be proactive with deterioration." You couldn't find fat on Rebecca if you did exploratory surgery. Suddenly, there's a party going on at Rebecca's. Mournful music plays during the montage, which reveals that a collection of attractive people have come to eat, drink, and socialize, but, alas when the party's over, Rebecca is left alone in her gigantic, expensively-decorated living room. Which has been cleaned of any party detritus by some unnamed servant who's being grossly underpaid, no doubt. Overcome with emotion, I write a letter to my Congressman demanding that something be done to alleviate the terrible suffering of the self-absorbed idle rich. Rebecca strolls about her empty house, and the collar on her red blouse is turned up as if it's still 1985. Then the camera pans past a window, and we can see that there's someone lurking outside her house. Hearing a noise, Rebecca turns, and Angel crashes through the window, showering her with shards of broken glass. Luckily, her up-turned collar protects her jugular vein from any accidental punctures. Angel runs across the room and kicks a man wearing a ski-mask who is lurking behind Rebecca. The bad guy manages to escape by pulling a bookcase down on top of Angel. This is easy to do, since the bookcase is empty except for some vases from Ikea, and the lack of any books gives me yet another reason to dislike Rebecca. The bad guy runs out through the broken window while Angel crawls out from under the bookcase. Rebecca starts to ask if Angel's okay, then stares into the mirror hanging over the couch, noticing the absence of Angel's reflection. There's a knock at the door, and someone from outside shouts that they're going to call the police. I think Rebecca should invest in some better security, like maybe someone who would actually open the door to check on her if someone had just broken into her house? When Rebecca turns back, Angel has vanished.
Rebecca tells Oliver that she's fine and just wants to be alone while police investigate the scene. Because she's just like Garbo. Oliver says he'll deal with the press, then hugs Rebecca and tells her he loves her before leaving. Alone again, Rebecca walks into another room and says, "I know you're still here." Angel steps out from behind a corner and says that he isn't what she thinks he is. Rebecca seems skeptical, saying "No reflection; dark, private office; knowing those letters weren't written in blood... I guess what I would think is, vampire." Angel hesitantly mutters, "Then again..." Rebecca says it's impossible, and that Bela Lugosi and Gary Oldman were vampires. Angel says, "Frank Langella was the only performance I believed." I know I'm a sucker, but I chuckled at that. Rebecca asks if Angel drinks blood, and he says that he gave up drinking human blood. She responds, "There's a support group for everything in this town." Next, Rebecca is startled to learn that Angel is over two hundred years old. She reaches out, asking, "If I touch you, will you be cold?" She brushes her fingers over his big blocky head and says she's felt colder. Angel is surprised that Rebecca isn't frightened of him. She tells Angel that she lied to Oliver, and that she doesn't really want to be alone.