Creepy's class. He's all, blah blah writing, blah blah life blah blah cliché blah. "When a work is intense, it's because [the writer's] life was intense," he says. Oh, God. Hasn't that whole A Writer Has To Live, Really LIVE thing been more or less debunked? I just find the idea that, in order to be a good writer, one has to drink oneself to death or stick one's head in the oven or, say, sleep with one's teacher a rather tired one. It's also the same excuse used by pretentious English majors to convince other English majors to have sex with them since the onset of academia. ["What's your point? (Heh.)" -- Sars] Joey's writing this all down frantically, and looking somewhat uncomfortable. Creepy asks the class what makes life "intense," then supplies his own answer: conflict. "Your desires versus your ideals, your head or your heart?" he offers, then asks the class for examples from their own life. Joey waves her hand in his face. "Out with it," he says. Joey stammers and stutters and says something about "a guy," and is finally saved by the bell. "Same Bat time, same Bat channel," Creepy says, dismissing them. Joey rolls her eyes and stomps off.
The Quad. Joey waits for the Creepy one. They need to talk, she says. "That was uncomfortable," she opens. "No, that was creative writing. Uncomfortable is taught down the hall on the left," Creepy snarks. Joey snips that "there should be a name for people who use sarcasm as a defense mechanism." Creepy smiles wearily. "There is: sarcastic," he tells her. Oh, fine: heh. Joey squeals that she's serious! And she's a little weirded out by that whole kissing thing they did. "I'm sorry, Joey. I'm a creep," Creepy says. "I've robbed you of your innocence." Dude, was that a shout-out? I think that might have been a shout-out! I live for the shout-out! "You're not a creep," Joey insists. Okay, that was a shout-out. It must have been! And if it wasn't, I'm pretending it was. Joey doesn't want an apology. She just wants to say her piece. Creepy's ready to hear it. And he's dialed down the smarm, which is a refreshing change, I have to say. Joey, having been given permission to say her thing, goes silent. "Whenever you're ready," Creepy prompts her. Joey flaps her arms and squeaks that she's "freezing" under the pressure. "Can I do this another time?" she asks. "Absolutely," Creepy says. And then Joey runs away. I was almost not grossed out by that entire exchange, but then I remembered that Joey is, like, eighteen years old and that Creepy is disgusting.
Liberty Hell, where Pacey is cooking breakfast. Enter Audrey. "You slept here again last night, didn't you?" she asks. Pacey makes some comment about it being her day off and why does she care and they're totally going to get together, aren't they? "Can I have that omelet?" Audrey asks. Pacey tells her that she cannot, and also mentions that now is not really a great time for a visit. "We had plans, you know," Audrey poutily reminds him. "Refresh my memory. That was the breast exam, right?" Pacey asks. Audrey rolls her eyes. "No. Running my lines!" she says. Pacey slides the omelet onto a plate. "To tell you the God's honest, Audrey, this is really not the best time for me." Cue entrance of the scantily-clad babe, insert dialogue about Pacey forgetting name of said babe (he thinks it's "Gina," it's actually "Rina." Both a Gina and a Rina are on staff at Dawson's Creek. This is a very shout-out-y episode). Naturally, G/Rina is rather irritated that Pacey has forgotten her name so quickly, and she gathers up her undies and storms off in a huff. "Have a nice life, Stacey," she hollers from the doorway. Pacey shakes his head and shrugs as the door slams shut. "On second thought, the omelet is yours," he says. Audrey grins at him, amused by this turn of events.