As David stalks away, he's approached by an impressively coiffed blond guy who tries to convince him to sell the funeral home to some big conglomerate. Now, I know they're just trying to set up their story arcs here, but we all know there's no way anyone would ever pull a stunt like that right at the funeral. I could see a call the next day, but no one is sleazy enough to do business when they're still at the cemetery.
Meanwhile Claire is sharing a cigarette and a smile with her dad. Incidentally, I get the feeling this show is going to be very difficult to put into paragraph form because the scenes are all thirty seconds long, and they keep cutting back and forth on one another. You'll just have to bear with me if things get a bit choppy. Anyway, Late Nate is thankful that he didn't have time to think about his death or even see it coming. He and Claire agree that death means no more bullshit, no more boredom, and no more waiting to die. It's interesting that out of all the family members, Claire is the only one who had a pleasant visit from the dearly departed. Everyone else had his or her worst fears played upon, but the youngest Fisher really seems to have found some peace from seeing her father this way.
In another part of The Immense Cemetery That Swallowed Southern California, Brenda finally finds Nate. They walk, and she once again justifies her visit with a joke about ditching her own relatives. For the fifty-millionth and (I hope) final time, Nate lists everyone's character quirks: "My father's dead, my mom's a whore, my brother wants to kill me, and my sister's smoking crack...Four days ago, I was a relatively happy guy. Now, it's like I don't even know who that guy was." If after that you're still confused on who's who, well, maybe you should just go back to watching UPN. You're gonna love Roswell. Brenda gives Nate her number, and suggests that they go on a real date and actually have dinner before she puts out. What is it about Peter Krause that has all the women wanting to make him wait? It can't be the stubble, can it? They flirt; Peter Krause slips back into Casey McCall mode and does a horrible job of it. Note to the lovelorn male readers of this site: calling yourself a serial rapist, even in jest, is never the way to woo the ladies. ["You are so right about that." -- Wing Chun]
Or the gentlemen, for that matter, as David has turned up, disheveled and shivering, on Keith's doorstep. Coming inside, he can't even speak, and just runs into Keith's arms. David just needs to feel something, so they kiss, and while the whole thing does have a bit of a gratuitous "It's not TV, it's HBO" feel about it, I'll still skip the requisite "but Kerr Smith is still a tool" joke out of respect for the vacationing Sars.