Sunrise at Commitmentphobia Estates finds Kevin sleeping and Chad sitting at the foot of the bed in his underpants, qo9jri34ksdu8$f. ... Sorry! Brooding. He's brooding. In his underpaaaaaaaaaaants! I don't usually feature Jason Lewis because he's almost too pretty, but he's killing me here with the shoulders. And the brooding. And the pants of underness. Anyway, Kevin rolls over and is all "dude, go back to sleep," but Chad can't. He "can't go on like this." Kevin sits up all, "In the what now?" and Chad paces around the room and talks angrily about how he was watching Kevin sleep and thinking about all the things normal people do together that he and Kevin can't. Kevin is not really feeling the early-morning drama, and quips, "Like get a good night's sleep?" Chad blows right past the sarcasm: "Like travel, like be open." Kevin realizes it's not a time for jokes, and asks what Chad means. "My manager," Chad says firmly, and starts to pull a shirt on. Fine, Jason Lewis, be that way. All... dressed and whatnot. "I'm going to fire my manager." He announces that he's going to change everything, now, today, but as Chad is putting his pants on, the wild hair of potential closeness falls across Kevin's ass, and he hops out of bed all, "Wait, wait, wait, you're going to fire Donald, why would you do that?" "Because he keeps shoving me back into the closet," Chad self-righteouses. "It's too late." Kevin looks like he's physically suffocating, and is trying to come up with a response that says "leave me out of it" but is more diplomatic than that when Chad's like, "Hold on a sec, how did you know my manager's name?" I don't know how realistic it is that, in the middle of charging full-speed out of the closet, Chad would notice that bit of information, but if it's going to move this plot forward, I can forgive it. It doesn't seem like Kevin entirely understands what Chad's saying, either, as he frowns that Chad's mentioned Donald "like a thousand times." He asks Chad to chill, have some coffee, talk, and wait to fire Donald until at least after lunch, but Chad is coming out even if he has to break the door down: "I don't want this double life anymore, Kev." Kevin nods, "Okay," but Chad isn't done: "I have to be who I'm gonna be, and whoever's in my life that won't accept that, I have to get rid of." Aw. Part of me does feel kind of "simmer down, freshman" about Chad here, but on the other hand, Jason Lewis is really selling it. Chad's going to talk to Donald right then; he grabs his jacket and tells Kevin they'll talk later, and they kiss, and as Chad marches purposefully off, Kevin watches him go and looks terrified.
... Oh, barf. Nora knocks on Coyote's office door and asks if she's missed his office hours. "Oh, I'm like a doctor, Nora," Coyote says, in a tone of self-important ersatz weariness, "always on call." You seem more like a horse's ass to me -- full of shit -- but we're stuck with you, I suppose, at least for the moment, so let's all watch Nora stumble all over the place trying to hit on you when what she should be doing is calling Treat Williams, shall we? Faaaaabulous. So, Nora is crazy awkward, asking him if he has kids (two) and then if he has "a mate" ("not so much anymore" -- gee, I can't imagine why not) and does he drink coffee -- "theoretical coffee, it could be orange juice or something with bubbles, it doesn't, doesn't have to be --" This is all the more painful because she could do so much better than Smoove C, and mercifully, he interrupts her, but then he makes fun of her obvious discomfort: "Nora. You're forgetting how to speak. 'Theoretical coffee'?" She's trying to ask you for a date, dicksmack. A little respect for the moment? Oh, I forgot. Your milkshake brings all the girls to the yard. And I do mean "girls." But I'm skipping ahead here. Nora steers the babble train onto a different track, blaming the whole thing on Margot Kidder, and Coyote interrupts again to tell her pompously that she's trying to ask him out for coffee, and then to draw her attention to his ultra-cheesy picnic lunch, for which she's welcome to join him. They can "watch the kids" and "swap stories." Yeah, I'll bet. And: a picnic lunch, seriously? Does that work on anyone still? Well, yes. It works on Nora. She accepts his invitation. Treat Williams, seated beside his silent telephone, wipes away a single tear.