Grayza's Skreeth prowls Moya's corridors; D'Argo greets John, who's brought Bobby and Jack. Bobby finds Moya: Awesome. "And this is just the garage," John says. Bobby begs for the tour, but John's busy, so he calls for 1812. Jack offers to give Bobby the tour, but John insists that they'll need a sherpa. He kneels to 1812 -- "Gimme that arm" -- and sprays one of the DRD's tool arms with WD40. "This should fix it up. It's a miracle." 1812 wiggles around, testing it. "1812, this is Bobby. Bobby, this is 1812. 1812 is going to be your tour guide. Don't let him break anything." Jack takes Bobby to see the Pilot, after one false start in the wrong direction. "Jack. That way." Aww, Jack And Bobby. I liked that show.
"You think they know how to open doors?" asks John. Heh. D'Argo asks John if he can check the wormhole's stability from Command, or if he needs to go outside again. "Command will be fine. I've had enough EVA to last a lifetime." Aeryn enters, John caught out and not looking, and she tells D'Argo the Prowler's systems all check out: "... So the scientists don't seem to have caused any damage." He assures her he made sure of that, and she thanks him and takes off. One Earth problem fixed. A million to go. Her face is tight and hard. Feeling the vibe, D'Argo pats John on the shoulder and leaves. There's a whole undercurrent here that's lovely, where D'Argo's like, "Hope the next five minutes don't suck awfully bad," and John's like, "Yeah, thanks."
John follows Aeryn into the bay, where she's still checking her Prowler and ignoring him. "You got a problem with them poking around at your prowler, why don't you leave it here? The IASA boys got enough to look at with D'Argo's guppy and my module." He looks under the wing at her, and she stands up, cutting him off. "Would it be better if I stayed here as well?" He asks why she would do that. He's such a fucking boy all the time. Don't write yourself this pass. "I'm clearly not fitting in," she says, clearing her throat. "Whatever, it's up to you." Up to her? Yeah. She holds his gaze. Wanna flip another fucking coin, dipshit? She swallows. "Fine, I...well, I don't mind your scientists poking around with my Prowler. I can even field-strip a cannon..." Demonstrations of soldier's readiness, overtures made while she continues to turn herself off, or at least down. And he knows, and he regrets, and he's on drugs. I love the laka storyline because it reverses them, and makes everything suspect: everybody thinks he just hasn't forgiven her, but the truth is so much more complex, and it all comes to a head here, where it should: at the beginning. He tells her they've seen enough, no need to bother, and she smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. The Skreeth watches as he asks her, begging for mercy, if she needs help. No. "No, of course you don't." He's being a dick but it's the drugs. And you know how I feel about that shit. You have a lovely family. Merry Christmas. There are so many ways to be afraid.