Day 9. Carter is shaving in the bathroom with a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his shaving hand. The triumphant grin on his face can only mean one thing: Booty. “Think they know?” he muses. Abby, who looks like she’s washing some clothes in a sink, considers this. “Pratt’s clueless,” she says. “Chen knows.” Carter doubts it, razing a patch of stubble with zeal. “Oh, no, she knows,” grins Abby mischievously. Carter can’t believe Abby blabbed. “Where do you think I got the condoms?” Abby asks. Safe sex, kids: Don’t let a lockdown lock you down…with a baby. As Carter chuckles, Abby ribs him, “And, you know, you were a little…loud.” He blushes a little. Dear God: Please spare me explosive orgasm jokes. Love, Heathen. Flirting, in the form of light banter, continues as Abby lifts her sleeve to check out the rash developing on her back. Carter’s all, “Hey baby, niiiice pustule.” She complains that she’s going to get a big scar there, so Carter suggests a second tattoo. “True,” she says. “I could get ‘Carter...’” He’s all, “Mommy, she likes me!” Then Abby continues, “…Sucks.” He hits her with a towel in flirtatious glee and then runs off to iron his big-boy pants, which Abby ripped off with her teeth last night.