Bree and George are at a fancy bar; Bree looks utterly fantastigreat in an emerald green shift, a '60s-style partial up-do, and heavy eye makeup along with, I suspect, false eyelashes. Also, she's wearing an dynamite brooch just below her right collarbone. She's sipping what looks to be a Negroni from one of those "wacky" martini glasses with the crooked Dr. Seuss stem, which frankly I'm surprised Bree would put up with; perhaps she's too preoccupied to insist on a dignified glass. George notices Bree's preoccupation, too, and asks her if she's okay. Bree says that she's just tired. George invites her to dance, thinking it might "pep" her up, but she declines with a small smile. George smiles a friendly smile back, but then he notices that Bree's ring finger is naked again. His expression goes all icy, and he asks her where the engagement ring is. Bree stammers something about how the stone is loose, that she's going to take it in to get it fixed, but for now it's safely tucked away in her purse. George, stonily: "This isn't about Leila, is it?" Bree: "No! It's like I told you: the stone could pop off at any second." George tells her he doesn't really care if the stone gets lost, and then he commands that she put it on. Bree, firmly: "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to." George, looking more crazy by the minute, asks her, "Why not?" Bree, emphatically: "Because I don't feel like it. And this is the last time we're going to talk about this, okay?"