Audrey: "Come right in! I certainly hope that look on your face doesn't have anything to do with the market status of Lyritrol."
Julian: "It has to do with a lot of things. But I guess I can tell you most of them, because my brother sure as shit is going to blow our spot come morning."
Audrey: "Let's have sad drunk sex first, and then you can tell me all about your company's business secrets."
Julian: "See you say you want me to whine about this stuff, but I'm not sure you get what you're asking. I'm talking rich white boy whining. It's a whole bulletpointed list I got in my head of things I deserve and don't yet have. This could take all night."
Audrey: "I didn't feel like a ho until just now. Well, whatever. Let's do this."
Edward blows the whole thing wide open, Wyatt makes a surprise visit I think, and either Motorcycle or Carpet -- or both -- wake up like, "Man, I was so wasted last night! I barely even remember anything that happened after that Senator showed up." And that's when the oblique texts start rolling in, historically -- or I guess since these people don't have those, the awkward silence-filled phone conversations that are mostly just question marks preceded by moments of zero-accountability vagueness -- and it's all yadda-yadda-yadda from there. Don't do it, Carpet. Get a class- and age-appropriate Motorcycle, or a Mia, of your own. These goods are damaged.
JACOB CLIFTON is a freelance writer and critic based in Austin, Texas. He currently recaps The Good Wife, Deception, Zero Hour, and Pretty Little Liars for TWoP. Jacob can be found online at jacobclifton.com, on Twitter, and on Facebook. IRL work appears in BenBella's SmartPop series of anthologies, and a novelette, "The Commonplace Book," appeared this fall on Tor.com.