Wren: "No, you're right about everything. Ian was hiding from even your sister after the ghost-ninja strangulated him, and said he couldn't tell her what was up until she brought him 'meds' and 'supplies' of an undisclosed nature. I only helped because I feel bad about molesting you into sending her back to Ian, who is even creepier than I am. If it changes things, I didn't give her all the 'meds' she wanted -- some of that shit was Schedule C."
Spencer: "Help me work this out or I will get so intense you'll cry just from me looking at you."
Wren: "I can't help noticing that any time I associate with either of you girls things get real bad real fast. Even though I'm so super British and thus above reproach."
Spencer: "Oh, that's about to happen anyway. I could break you like a fucking twig."
Wren: "I've told you all the vague things there are to tell you. I must anon."
Hanna: "Stare at me all you want, lady. Dissociation's the only thing I've ever had."
Anne: "Did you discuss therapy with your buds?"
Hanna: "Oh, we're not hanging out. Remember?"
Anne: "Come on, girl. It's healthy to compare notes."
Hanna: "Then why can't we talk to each other?"
Anne: "Okay, look. I am here for one reason only. To help you fix yourself. You have got a metric shit-ton of stuff to let go of. Doesn't that sound at all pleasurable? Being a person?"
Hanna: "Okay, like what? What have I got to let go of?"
Anne: "Fear, guilt, anger..."
Hanna: "I have so much of those things. You would be amazed how pissed I am. Because I am a fucking lunatic, dude."
Anne: "No doubt. So let's talk about Alison? She's still a factor. All of these things come from her."
Hanna: "Yeah, she's fucking me up on the regular. It's not like I have a say in the matter."
Anne: "Nobody has ever told you this before, but you are totally the one driving this car."
Therapeutic Idea #1: Have a conversation with Imaginary Alison, sitting over in that chair.
Therapeutic Result #1: Hanna bounces, obviously.
Oh, and at some point in there Anne cracks a joke about how the longer you stare at a clock, the longer time seems to take. Seems like a throwaway line; it is not.
When they're not trying to rape or murder you, boys play basketball and construct other elaborate rituals to touch each other. Aria, looking for Mike, stumbles upon a wealth of hot half-dressed young people who are not Ezra. One of them is Jason.