Alby and the hottie enter the motel room. The guy heads straight for Alby, who goes off to the bathroom while the hottie opens a beer. He comes out and talks all that robot/Alby/weirdo/Swamp Thing talk: "The window was open...in the bathroom...but...I shut it. This is where I stay...when I'm...in town. Do you want...a sandwich?" The guy's like, "Um?" Not unless you've got a friend stashed in here somewhere. "Where you from?" asks the hottie, coming in close, and Alby dodges him again. "I'm going to...make a sandwich." Hottie dude is so freakin' dead. Alby sits down and looks up at hottie dude, who puts down his beer and takes off his shirt in front of the mirror, revealing a tight black tank inside which he is stretching and flexing in all kinds of not-sanctioned ways. Alby...pulls out that HUGE KNIFE. Hottie dude...you know what, let's call him Justin. Looks like a Justin or whatever. Justin throws the shirt on the bed and they lock eyes, and Justin continues to do sexy porn things despite the HUGE KNIFE, and Alby continues to make his sandwich, staring at Justin, who is now busy being totally hot in the mirror. Justin picks his beer up after a bit and comes over to that breakfast table that all motel and hotel rooms have, where Alby is sitting, and deep-throats Alby's sandwich. Not the sexiest thing you could do, but I guess it makes the point. Alby again locks eyes with the guy, but fully reaches out without looking into the grocery bag and pulls out a newspaper. This is where you leave, Justin: Time table. We call this point in the evening "freshman year." Not worth it. "These tires cost 49 dollars!" mumbles Alby, and whatever, Justin comes around behind him in the chair, breathing in his neck, and Alby fully gets up and sits in the other chair. "By the time you get out of there it's never 49 dollars!" The guy leans in, finally, and darts at Alby's ear, whispering, "Are we going to fuck, or what?" I don't know where Alby got the idea that this is a multiple choice question. Probably that darn cult.
Alby grimaces and starts grunting, then twitching and rocking back and forth, freaking out Justin, who's all, "What's your damage, Heather?" or the rough-trade equivalent, and Alby starts wheezing and screeching and bashing himself against the wall over and over, staring into space. Justin tells him repeatedly to shut up and stop it, and notifies him that he is a "crazy fucking whacked-out freak," which -- we knew that, Justin. Use your powers of observation. Justin grabs his shirt and runs, and the second the door slams, Alby snaps back to normal. Everybody in the room watching this with me spontaneously went, "Awwww," at this point, because we felt horrible for Alby, but if you don't know guys like this, (a) Lucky you, and (b) it's really quite sad. He picks up his sandwich, stares at the door, goes to the mirror, and eats the sandwich while looking at himself. All of a sudden I'm kind of rooting for Alby -- and it's not just because he didn't chop up that guy, either. I would say it was all an act, but then why did he bring the dude home in the first place, because I've seen the look they gave each other at the gas station before, but if you combine it with the weird boy-repression stuff in the Ben plot this week...poor Alby. You know? Frickin' Roman. Like Nicki wasn't enough of an indictment of his parenting, you gotta go and make his sociopathic son a sad-sack too?