Henry "And June" Parker leans morosely against Jen's front door and whines about Grams's not letting him in the house; Jen, sitting on a sofa on the porch, blithely shrugs that Grams declared him "public enemy number one." Henry harangues her about it some more and Jen makes some more "whatever" noises, and then Henry lurches across the sofa and starts kissing her, and Jen laughs in his face. A moment later, she spots Dawson crossing the lawn, and, thinking Dawson knows about the Joey-Pacey situation and will want to talk, she stuffs Henry into the house; Dawson opens the screen door and apologizes for interrupting and makes to leave them alone, but Jen tells him not to worry about it, because she "was expecting that [he'd] come by anyway." She asks how he's doing and if he's okay. Puzzled, Dawson says he's fine. Dawson's hair -- oh, I give up. I suspect a Flowbee got involved somewhere along the line but beyond that I refuse to speculate.

Jen mentions gently that she and Henry could "use a chaperone," and Dawson, still a bit baffled, says sarcastically that it sounds "tempting" but he's going to go watch a movie and "relive better days," and of course he's referring yet again to his melodramatic non-midlife non-crisis, but Jen thinks he's talking about Pacey and Joey: "God . . . I know this must seem like the hardest thing in the world right now, but . . . you know what, in the long run it's better that Pacey told you." Oops -- oh, hello, cat emerging from bag. "Told me what?" Dawson asks suspiciously. Jen stares at him sadly. Dawson, openly smelling a rat: "Jen, told me what?" She tries to backtrack with, "That -- nothing," but Dawson doesn't buy it, wanting to know, "If it's nothing, then why were you so concerned about me?" Jen lies that she wasn't concerned, but Dawson says that "you were concerned because you assumed Pacey told me something -- told me what, Jen?" Jen looks at him with genuine pity, closes her eyes, and looks away. Dawson gets out the bar of self-righteousness soap and starts to work up a lather: "Okay, you know, the fact that you're unwilling to answer my question speaks volumes." He pinches his lips together to form a little facial anus. Jen looks back at him with that pity-face, and he guesses, "It has to do with Joey, doesn't it?" Still the commiseration look from Jen. Dawson prepares to deploy the nostrils: "It does, doesn't it?" Jen shakes her head, whispering, "God, I'm so sorry," and Dawson splutters, "Wha -- you've known about this?" As James Van Der Beek rolls his eyes and juts his jaw back and forth in a gruesome imitation of "betrayal," Jen says she didn't consider it her place to say anything; she didn't want to interfere, and she wanted to protect Dawson. Dawson grunts in disgust and stomps off the porch. Jen follows him to the door and asks him to wait, to "say something." He insists angrily that he's fine, but Jen insists that he's not, and she asks what she can say or do to help. Dawson turns and points at her all schoolmarmishly and sneers that she can do him "the same favor that you did them -- you can keep this to yourself," adding snidely, "thanks for protecting me." He tromps his XXXL cargo-pants-clad ass back to his own house. Jen leans against the doorjamb and sighs.