RusSatan inspires no such warm fuzzies, but his going home empty-handed tonight is still as likely a prospect as a snowball's chance in the town where he makes his home. The town of Hell. He whispers creepily to Trista that he "doesn't want to be cocky," but that he feels like "it's there." Trista tells him that she knows that alcohol was involved, but that he can't be so aggressive. Sing it with me if you know the words: Gaaaaaaaaah.
A quick quorum outside finds Rob, Brook, Bob (hey, those Bachelorette collector's cards are a really helpful study aid! And the gum is so tasty!) and (oh, crap) some guy named maybe Brian asking what they think everyone's chances will be tonight. Brook notes that his fate reminds him of his favorite song, "Happy Trails." Oh, clearly everyone knows that your favorite song is "Friends in Low Places." And judging by what happens next, Brook certainly could have copped to it, since the ensuing sequence certainly shows him (a) blaming it all on his roots (b) showing up in boots and (c) ruining Trista's black-tie affair. He tells us, "I found out that Trista was allergic to most animals. I feel like I have more strikes right now than a baseball game against me." My Y-chromosome comes running into the room, Baseball Tonight theme at the ready, but really, it's too late now. Sitting down at a table inside together, Trista laughingly tries to tell Brook, "My biggest concern with you was the horse thing." But you can see the days of pent-up ignored-in-Vegas rage looking for an outlet, and clearly Brook has already decided that he's going to be passed over. So people, he lays into her: "You're telling me the consideration is horses. That's shallow." Trista asks him to put himself in her shoes, and defends herself that she needs to find somebody "most compatible to me," and Brook can only respond, "That's your choice." Unless he literally did put himself in her shoes, which would allow him to stuff Trista in a closet and pass himself off as her for the remaining four weeks of this show. Back downstairs, Bob cracks Trista up again in that I-can't-wait- to-call-Bob-up- and-tell-him- all-about-how- things-are-going- with-whatever- guy-I-pick- instead-of-him kind of way we've come to love so much. But just then, My Guardian Game Show Host comes halfway down the steps (oh, look! This show has a host now!) and clangs hard on his champagne flute (heh. "Clangs hard on his champagne flute" is what Chris does whenever he thinks of Trista, if you know what I mean and I think you do) to the point of nearly shattering it. He tells the rest of the guys, "Gentlemen, I need to borrow Trista for a moment." Many of them wave goodbye to her back as she walks up the stairs and out of their steely male gaze.