Abby tries to guess where he's taking her, based on tiny clues he drops; once she gets in the passenger side, Carter reveals that he's taking her to an AA meeting, and she hops right back out and makes a beeline for the bar. "When's the last time you went?" he demands gently. "What do you think?" Abby snorts, trying to get around him. They dance this way the entire time, with her trying to escape to the bar and him blocking her path, so they end up moving in odd-shaped circles. Softly, Carter asks what it would hurt to attend one. "It'll kill my buzz, for starters," she points out. Oh, and she's raging drunk, and that might not go over terribly well with the twelve-steppers who've actually stayed off the sauce. "One step at a time, remember?" Carter notes. Abby stops, frustrated. "I was your sponsor, remember? Save the dogma," she spits. "Besides, you're screwing it up. Would you say that I'm drunk?" Carter would. "You're not supposed to go to meetings drunk," Abby says triumphantly. Carter figures they'd understand, but I'm not so sure they would. It's a bit like running into a Gamblers Anonymous meeting with a $20,000 pile of Caesar's Palace chips spilling out of your pockets and screaming, "Yeah, I'm off the wagon, but I'm in the money, baby! YEAH!" Abby points out shirtily that meetings are also voluntary, so Carter asks her quite nicely to get in his car voluntarily. She fights this, so he grabs her by the wrist and swears to get her there even if he has to carry her. "Thanks for caring, but...not tonight," Abby argues. Carter seems to think that pushing harder will work, when in fact it'll probably make her snap like a rubber band and shoot off even farther in the other direction. Abby breaks free and stomps up to the bar, but Carter runs after her and throws her over his shoulder. She screams and bites him, so he screams and drops her on her ass. "Son of a bitch, you bit me!" he yells. "You dropped me!" she shouts back, but she's not pissed. The ugly bartender comes out. "Is everything okay?" he asks. "Yeah," they say dully, in unison. I laughed out loud there. They sounded overly innocent, like petulant children trying to pretend to their parents that they're not fighting.
Abby, still on the ground, looks pathetically up at Carter. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "I just...I can't. I can't go to a meeting tonight." Carter stares at her, then holds out his hand and invites her to get something to eat, or some coffee. He pulls her up, and she chuckles. They walk to her car, his arm wrapped casually around her waist, tucking her close to him. We fade to commercial wondering what Carter tastes like.