John breathes in, quickly. Turns to Aeryn, who slowly looks back. He stands, thumbs in belt loops, and walks to meet her face to face. "So you're angry with me? Let's talk." We've heard this one before: "I don't want to talk." He starts to try again, but she clubs hell out of the side of his head, and he staggers. Aeryn leaves with a swish of duster and long fake hair. Credits.
John follows Aeryn down the corridor as she's telling him they've nothing to talk about. "The hell there's not. You hit me!" Aeryn looks at him sidelong: "You lied to me." And this is rhetorically maybe not so smart, because he points out that she lied too, when she said nothing was bothering her. So, I guess he's Homer Simpson in this episode. Fabulous. At least this week there's a plot reason. "Okay, so I didn't tell you about the poppers, you didn't tell me about the baby. Does that mean I get to hit you now?" She looks him right between the eyes. "I would not advise that." He climbs up onto a workbench and looks her in the face: "Oh, you...do not scare me, missy." She gives him a very fucking scary look and he backs off. "Okay, you scare me a little." She resumes working. "You want the truth? I was taking that crap from Noranti...to forget you. But you gotta admit..." Don't say it! You're too cute to die! "...It's kinda romantic." I fully expected her to shoot him at that point. What are they teaching boys these days? "I'm just crazy about you," he says, training the full power of those baby blues on her. "So it's my fault," she says, gone cold. Deaf to his protests. "You should have been stronger."
"Oh, God!" he groans. "Aeryn, please! Honey, give me a break! I'm weak. I'm human." He falls to his knees in front of the workbench: "I'm a guy." Not the point. Don't ever say that. It's the weakest fucking thing you can say. Don't even think it. Aeryn slams a chest closed and walks away. He follows, grabbing her; she whirls and he drops her arm, hands in the air. The story's already started and they don't know it. She's wheeling out of control, grasping at straws; he's giving into despair and whistling in the dark. Everybody gives this last burst of their lie, everybody retreats into their roles without thinking, because contemplation of what's coming shuts them down. So she's never been so cold, so protected; he's never been more pig-headed or self-consciously oblivious. She glares and he points at her, two-handed: "We're gonna be fine." Her face like a mask, chaos behind it: "No. We're not." So still. She fairly runs. "Aeryn. Do not walk away. Much as I love it when you walk away...Aeryn!" He goes on talking to himself. "We're gonna be fine. She likes me." He nods, stares, heads off the other way. Everything's fine.