Ruth showcases a few of George's other taupe-and-slate-colored knickknacks, picking up a big slab of rock and telling Maya, "It's called a horse." Nate smiles for the first time in three months and nourishes his daughter with the milk of family dysfunction, baby-talking, "That's funny. Where Daddy comes from, it's called a rock." Just at this moment, George "Mr. Wizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzard" Sibley enters and overexplains that a "horse" is, in fact, "a piece of displaced rock in the walls of a fault line." Nate thanks him for his teachings on the subject, and Claire "Teenage Suicide (Don't Do It)" Fisher enters just then as well to inquire as to whether the table is new. George volunteers, "It's Persian," as the conversation spins in snappy circles like Tarantino directing an episode of Trading Spaces or something, Claire asking, "Persia. Does that exist anymore?" Nate notes that "Persia is Iran. And this," he continues, gesturing at the slab, "is a horse." Claire cracks open a red sports drink in order to replenish the lost electrolytes from her rigorous workout routine of 1,000 self-pity-ups followed by a cool-down middle-finger-at-the-establishment and asks, "A piece of rock found between the walls of a fault?" George somewhat patronizingly compliments her on her knowledge, and she notes that the fascination level she feels for George's hobby is roughly akin to "going to school in your own home." Zouch. Jumping in when she becomes hip to the knowledge that this is the most anyone on this show has spent discussing a lifeless and inanimate object since Ed Begley Jr. talked about himself, Ruth thinks to help out: "You know, Claire. Maybe you could take photos of some of George's keepsakes...it's been a while since you did any of your, y'know, art. I just thought it might inspire you." Claire asks if she looks like she needs inspiring, and Nate responds, in order to up the gravitas ante of one of those silly adults saying it, "Actually, you do."
I thought it was only the Jews who invited everyone they knew over and then just stood around in the kitchen, noshing. The next entrant into the clown kitchen is Arthur, who stands at the door and utters an awkward "Oh..." so exquisite I think it's going to be followed by "Sebastian, I was just arranging these matches" and then a slow slinking backward out of the room. Claire stares ahead like she doesn't even see him, and Arthur promises them, "I'll just grab my cottage cheese and take it up to my room." Such perfect weirdo food. I'll bet if you Control-Z back through the final version of the script, we'd all learn that it was changed back and forth between "cottage cheese" and "rice pudding" like seventeen different times. On his way out, Arthur notices the new home furnishing, asking, "Is this Persian?" George deadpans that it is, and Arthur lands the line this scene had coming to it all along: "I'm not sure it works in this kitchen. But it's very beautiful." Oh, I'm sorry I ever disparaged you, Arthur. I take it all back. These three random months of character re-development have served you well. Arthur all but floats out of the kitchen because he too might be dead, actually, and Ruth comforts a consternated George with a loving "I love it. Because it's yours." Translation: "Don't put it in your will, because we're totally having you buried with it."