While Abby finishes up his bedroom -- which is just as little-boy as you'd fear -- Bunchy's still trying to figure out why Ray won't come to his housewarming: Is it because he bought the house? I mean, she's not going to tell him Ray is pissed about that, because there's no point and of course he is -- I'm pissed at him about it, and I'm a real person in real life -- but she does joke around: "Fucking Conor wouldn't shut up about it! He's been texting me all day like Please please please please please."
It's as dorky as you think, and twice as sweet. Anybody but Ray, I just love her so much. She admits there's no movie night, and tries to explain that it's about Mickey. Bunchy sees this as an unfair punishment for somebody else's bad behavior, and Abby's not entirely being indulgent when she half-heartedly agrees, because she thinks Ray's anti-Mickey stance is almost as arbitrary as Bunch does. Then the temperature suddenly changes.
Bunchy: "He thinks it's Mickey's fault that I got molested. You know he tried it on Terry? Terry broke his fucking hand. Ray would've done it too, if he tried anything... I was a fighter, why didn't I try to stop him? I thought I wanted it to happen."
Abby: "That's what monsters do. That's how they get you."
But it's like, sometimes you can't think about thinking. You can't feel about feeling. He has all this guilt and shame and the bit of brainwashing manipulation he's talking about, and you can say those things aren't real but of course they are real, on that level. She treats him just right, even touches him in a safe place, but soon enough he's wiping his eyes and laughing at himself. And Abby, not quite gratefully, not quite relieved, returns to finishing up the room.
But if you've ever had a zit, you know this part of it. Where it hurts but not enough to do anything with it yet, so then it's all you can think about. And the more you think about it, look at it, the more ready it looks. Which is how you know this party is not going to go well. This is just the first admission of the encouraging/frightening fact that he's doing the work on his own, thinking about it outside Group, and -- once Mickey adds drugs and drinking and whores, which you know he's going to -- that car's gonna start going faster than Bunchy can control it.
Which, is all this is: we get all confused because of issues of consent and weirdness around sexuality and self-hatred and self-harm and all of these things, but that's part of being exploited that we take that guilt on for ourselves. The truth is that this experience is nothing more than learning to drive a car that just happens to be moving already.