Speaking of Dexter, he's at Rudy's crib now, about to break in. "Thinking Rudy attacked Batista doesn't make any sense. He's a loving boyfriend, he spends his life helping people in need...he brought me steaks. Now that's just rude." He looks at Rudy's front door and wonders, "Now, why would Rudy need an industrial grade lock?" Then, looking up, "...and a security camera? How do I get his DNA, now?" He goes around back and starts rooting through the industrial trash bin. "At times like this, I wish the truth was more easily accessible, and less...ripe." Heh, word. That shit looks gross. He finds a bag of Rudy's and starts flipping through discarded pre-approved credit card applications and other junk mail. "Harry taught me to trust my gut. 'People lie all the time,' he said, 'but your instinct will never fail you.'" He finds a cotton swab with blood on it, "from a cut lip, perhaps?" He pockets the swab.

Deb arrives at the marina, where Rudy and his rose- and christmas-light-adorned yacht are sitting. Poor Deb. She's been so blinded by this guy's romantic game and his manipulation of her low self-esteem. I know she's annoying, but she doesn't deserve this. If she lives through this, she's is going to be severely mind-fucked. "Fuck me!" she says, ecstatic. Rudy smiles, holding a white rose, and says, "I believe your rules prohibit such action." Yeah, hardy-har. Stepping aboard, Deb asks, "Did you do all this?" In fact, he did. Deb tells him that she has to go pretty much immediately: "I hit traffic. It took me thirty minutes to get here, so now I have to turn around and go right back." Without a word, Rudy gets down on one knee with a jewelry box in his hand. Deb, predictably, starts giggling like a school-girl. "Hold on, hold on, wait --" she stammers. "Well, you're sort of forcing my hand, here. I wanted to wait until we were out on the water, but...here goes," he says, holding up the ring that he took off of the dead hooker's prosthetic arm. "I know this seems fast, but I feel that I've waited my whole entire life for you, and now that you're here, I don't want you leave." He then asks her to marry him, and she says, "I knew it! I fucking knew it!" "Is that your version of a yes?" She says it is, but she wants to savor it, and be with him to enjoy it. "I get it," he says. "You do?" "No, not really, but I can work with it." "Oh my God. I can still wear the ring, right?" He says yes, but "there's a condition." Uh-oh. Conditions are no good. He tells her it would be cruel for her to leave her fiancé "on a yacht with a cold meal and an unopened bottle of champagne." Deb agrees to one glass of champagne, and kisses Rudy really hard on the lips.