Stark and D'Argo finish up painting Moya's blackened walls, totally high off the dannlandium. They are very cute and I love them both very much, but the scene's mostly nonverbal. A lot of "I can't feel my tongue" and "Frell you" and whatnot, eventually falling into gibberish. Eventually losing language. Because they both embody different parts of the relationship between John and Aeryn -- the spiritual union and the physical partnership -- and because they'd both throw themselves out the bay and into vacuum, they can't be there for this. It's the perfect length of funny-scene to divide up the total horror slowly encroaching on all sides. I like it in movies or video games when the awful thing comes and the lights get dim and stuff starts crawling and dripping down the walls. I don't like this though.
Chiana and Jothee sit together on Pilot's desk, watching him get trippy and wild and woolly and weird. Jothee tells Chiana that "his dad" wants to buy a farm with his share of the Shadow cash. "He wants to grow Prowsa fruit and make wine," he spits, and whines that he doesn't want to live on a farm. "I've been a slave. Chained in a mine. He wants to live the quiet life, I want to live loudly." Chiana's like, (a) You're even better at this game than you think, and (b) When you put it that way...but then realizes she's the odd man out. "I guess it was gonna be just you two." Pilot disagrees, and Chiana explains to him that he's high. "I am no higher than I've ever been. My position is fixed!" the bitchy tone is adorable; even Jothee smiles. "No, no, no, I mean the drug in Moya, it's messing with your brain," she clarifies. "He's been using my DRDs to practice. Wanna see? It's a secret," says Pilot kindly. And one of the DRDs projects a hologram.
"Chiana. You know that I have to spend a lot more time with Jothee, so...I was hoping we could all find a quiet place and...settle down together. I was hoping you would consent to be my wife." Holo-D'Argo breathes out, terrified; Chiana and Jothee both WTF. She gets ten years younger in this moment.
Rygel sits on Moya with Grunchlk, watching him suck down pink slime with a big spoon. He is so goddamn gross. "What a surprise to find you eating," says Aeryn, upon entering. "So, Gunshock. How long will it be before the surgeon can operate on Crichton?" Grunchlk doesn't even bother to correct her. Maybe it's because she's getting closer every time to the truth. Seven or eight hours; the Doctor wants to focus on Moya's treatment. "He's...uh...splendidly conscientious." Aeryn reports that she'll keep "Crichton" restrained until he's ready; Rygel just wants her to leave. Finally, she cocks an eyebrow at him: "Higher-level reasoning, Aeryn. If a simple thought occurs, I'll call you." She almost gives him a grin -- on a day like today, people merely acting in character makes you love them more -- and leaves.