Brendon and Rachel make it to the mat next, closely followed by Vanessa and Ralph, with the guys carrying two backpacks each. They're team number two and three respectively. Phil asks Vanessa if she's all right, and she says she is, apart from having rolled her ankle "like nobody's business." Brendon and Rachel appear to be overcome with concern. Phil congratulates all of them on making it through ten legs, and then adds, "Please tell me I don't have to give you any penalties. You guys have done everything right?" Ralph says, "I hope so," either unaware that Phil is trying to draw Vanessa out or vainly trying to forestall it. But Vanessa, with an "I'm not saying, I'm just saying" kind of smile on her face, admits that she was counting everyone's wheelbarrows during the Detour. "I don't know if we miscounted or if it was y'all," she says to Rachel. This passive-aggressive accusation is too passive for Rachel to even understand at first, until Vanessa claims that Brendon and Rachel somehow jumped from three wheelbarrows to seven. "Who cares?" Ralph points out, tired of Vanessa picking these fights with Rachel, and Rachel asks why Vanessa is starting drama on the mat. Bickering commences, and Phil asks why they can't get along. "She doesn't like my sequins," Rachel says. Vanessa openly laughs, "I don't think that's the reason." Rachel brings up Vanessa's comment about seeing Rachel's entire ass back at the watermelon task, and also the nose comment back at the Nairobi airport. Vanessa at first tries to act like she was just being honest and helpful, but after a little more arguing, Vanessa says she's sorry and they shake hands. Vanessa is not up for a hug, though, and not just because they're both hot and sweaty. They are so not ever going to be friends, and I have to admit that they're both kind of assholes. But I'm still on Vanessa's side, because she's funnier. Also, like I said before, I've always preferred Mary Ann to Ginger.
There are still two teams running the leg, lest we forget. While loading the ten boxes onto their cart, the sheet-metal rim on one of the crate lids cuts clean through JJ's leather work glove and into his finger. Now that's some bleeding, Rachel. They load ten boxes on a two-wheeled cart and start pushing it out of the building, arguing like the crabby married couple they're always so proud of not being.