Chiana's not sold, but Aeryn doesn't see any choices; Aeryn doesn't see any options, we go into free-fall. "She's gotta get fixed, but this is crazy," says Chiana. Aeryn shushes her as Grunchlk returns to them, whispering creepily: "He always thinks I undercharge. He's a greedy bastard, it's a species trait." Grunchlk ups the price to $15,000. D'Argo scoffs that he could by a whole new ship for that, and Grunchlk clucks in sympathy: "I had to let an aunt die once, because we couldn't afford a fixer." D'Argo and Aeryn sign, and turn as one away from his nasty ass. He's like that albino bloke in Princess Bride but less attractive. Aeryn offers quietly to return to Moya to assess their funds, and both Chiana and Grunchlk drift toward Tocot as she leaves. "If you don't make her better, we are gonna get you," hisses Chiana. D'Argo turns to see Chiana staring up at Tocot, and harshly calls her to heel. "Leave him alone." She ignores D'Argo and stares into Tocot's face. "Why do you wear that mask?" Grunchlk explains the admittedly complex and bizarre fact that if he inhales any bacteria through his mouth and nose at the same time, he'll die. Why would that be true? Is it about tasting? Nose and tongue together? And more importantly, how gross is Grunchlk? While he's giving this speech he fully flicks the mask open and wiggles his fingers around on the obscene nose area of Tocot, then -- after Tocot sneezes -- flips it closed again and licks those fingers, okay, and then caresses Chiana's hair. "Even the Siljot bacteria in your lovely hair would kill him." I've spent five minutes in Grunchlk's company and already I'd like to inhale an entire bottle of bleach through any part of my face at all.
Crichton's body. His face. His voice. All those things that make him wonderful. The swagger. Those are all different now. John enters one blackened Moya tunnel, cocking his head like Scorpius, and walks ahead, eventually reaching Rygel, who asks for a word. He wants to talk about dividing up the trinkets and baubles from the Depository; he gets a face full of fist and a bauble down his throat. John smirks and continues down the corridor, leaving Rygel choking behind him.
You never see John do these things. It's always Harvey. I don't know who that benefits, if it's the network or the actor or the show or what, but I'm glad of it. In the Uncharted Territories there's a rule that says whatever you love most, that's what's taken away from you. That's what the show requires, the sacrifice God requires: your heart. The lamb of God is whatever you love most. We know what that is for John; we've always known. And the name it carries, now, and the hateful face it wears. And it's John's.