Fringe is now two-for-two in terms of episodes featuring couples in trysts in motels, although this one seems a little less non-skeezy than the one chosen by John and Olivia in the pilot.
"What's her name? Whoever you're thinking about? Your girlfriend or whatever," asks a woman in a black bra and panties, lounging in bed all aglow, as her partner gets dressed. "I don't have a girlfriend," says the guy, looking slightly embarrassed, and the woman says, "Yeah?" kinda perkily, as though maybe now this relationship has a FUTURE or something.
Buddy is clutching a satchel, and the woman wants to know what's in it. She hopes it's a mushroom pizza, because that's what she's hungry for right now. Yeah, it's a mushroom pizza, jokes the guy, although "jokes" is a bit of an overstatement, and he takes the satchel in the bathroom with him as he finishes getting dressed. "You're not married, are you? Not that it's any of my business. You never know about people," calls out the woman from the bed. He doesn't say anything, but she keeps babbling. "My name isn't Amber, by the way. Obviously. That's just for the club." The guy opens the satchel, and inside are all kinds of surgical tools (regular ones, not creepy-ass ones like in Dead Ringers). She asks if he wants to know her real name, like he's got any power at all to keep her from nattering away. It's "Loraine Daisy," because all her sisters have flowers for middle names, and her mom can't spell.
Meanwhile, Buddy is busy affixing a vial of orange stuff to a syringe. And now he's got some green stuff, and one way or another her mom's spelling inability is going to be the least of her problems.
After a few moments of blessed silence, she suddenly starts grunting and gasping. Buddy runs back out into the motel room, where Loraine has gotten up from the bed and is staggering around in pain. "What's going on?" he says. He turns her around, and her belly is roiling -- something's inside, pushing out. "It'll be over in a second," he says, and the implication that he knows what's going on kind of cancels out any reassurance that statement might otherwise offer. He runs into the bathroom and gathers up his surgical instruments while she stumbles, screaming, outside and into the parking lot. A couple of other guests at the motel come out to ask what's going on, with one guy offering to give them a ride to the hospital, but Buddy says he'll take her himself.
She screams all the way there, her stomach still writhing. "What's happening to me?" she shrieks. Nothing but pop-culture punishment for unprotected sex!