In the hanger, Chiana's futzing with Viagra's tie: "So...are you as bored as I am?" She flexes her knees and assumes the position, teasing him. Holt runs up all apologetic -- "she's still learning our customs" -- and she turns her aggression on him. "Spank you very much? Maybe you can teach me." She bumps Holt's hip. As weird as it is, it's funny enough. D'Argo grabs her elbow and drags her away: "Okay, Chiana, let's leave." She continues to go all Chiana on the party, twisting around to yell at them: "What's wrong with you guys? ...Scared of us still?" Her outfit is totally adorable: short skirt like "Video Killed The Radio Star" and cool tights.
D'Argo hustles her out into the carpark for a Very Special Public Announcement about how: (a) all humans are bigots, who (b) fight even amongst their own species, and maybe, Chiana agrees, that's (c) why they barely left their own planet. Do you see the scientific ethics commentary? DO YOU? D'Argo smells something -- is it pedantry? -- no, it's the Skreeth. They check out DK and Laura's car, where the bodies are horribly lying. "Frell," whispers Chiana. John is a bad penny.
Jack walks into his living room, shedding his jacket and demanding his escort have some eggnog. He spots Aeryn, who's still standing there, awkward, and greets her warmly. John sees her and stops moving. Jack and Olivia take the guard into the kitchen, leaving John and Aeryn alone. Merry Christmas!
"I'm sorry," Aeryn says. "I just have to drop some things off to Olivia." These two. John bites his lip and assures her it's fine, and Aeryn darts a glance toward the kitchen. I don't like having scenes from my life played out in Technicolor like this, especially if I'm not being played by Ben Browder. Not that either of them are very flattering to be right now. "Do you want me to go back to Moya?" He cocks his head, unwilling to give a goddamn inch. "We've already talked about this. It's entirely up to you." Her eyes flash and she sets her jaw. "Fine. I'll go with what you prefer." He looks at her, questioning. "Look, I'm not trying to pressure you, John." Her voice nearly breaks. "I'm actually trying to...take the pressure off. Would you be happier if I wasn't here on Earth? You don't have to justify it or explain it. Just give me an honest yes or no." He breathes. The really hilarious part is that I could not have watched this episode for the first time at a less opportune moment or with a less opportune viewing partner. January 17, three weeks later. I literally wanted to crawl out of my skin and then eat it for breakfast and then blow up a bank and then punch your mom. Has that ever happened to you? It's so lame. The last time my world worked its kinks out so weirdly and predictably in sync with a TV show was Buffy. Let's just say 2000 - 2001 were a fucking hellride. I still kind of blame Joss Whedon for 2000 and 2001.