The doctor tells Frank the biopsy was negative, but then jokes around that his bungee injury will probably kill him. "I'm fuckin' with you. The bump looks pretty superficial, but if you vomit more than twice, have any seizures, or experience memory loss, call 911." He says some charming shit about "what if I vomit while I'm having a seizure and have no memory of it," and the doctor -- awesomely -- goes, "Tree in the forest, my friend." No fucking kidding. I wish she would come back every week just so we know how lame Frank is.
V tries to talk Marty into going back to jail, and he argues and yells swears all the time, because that's how Tourette's works, it's hilarious and harmless, and he's just like, "I don't wanna miss your wedding day!" I hope something terrible doesn't go on there.
"This is the dress that I will wear this afternoon. And it will protect me, like this house protects me. This is the dress. And today is the day. And the day is good."
Oh, Sheila. Joan Cusack was, in some ways I think, born for this role. It's just so fucking sad and real and honest and powerful and ridiculous. Eddie, this is the first sense we've gotten of how implicated he is in all this shit: "You look nice. Where are you pretending to go?" She ignores him. "I'm going to a wedding today. I am really gonna do it this time. And it's supposed to be a beautiful day today. Beautiful, and safe, and sunny..." Eddie scoffs and reminds her that the sun's just a burning ball of fire that could plunge from the sky at any time, and that's how you know it's okay to fucking hate Eddie.
Lounging on the bed with Kev, Fiona wonders if maybe Marty should come after all, and Veronica does an unkind impression of all the ways he could fuck it up, which of course Marty overhears, so he takes the wedding dress -- which really is gorgeous -- into the bathroom, along with a fireplace lighter. "It's a real pretty dress, Roni! It'll burn nicely, with all this taffeta! You send me back to jail, this dress goes up! This house goes up! We all go up!"