Chris and Andy sit down in their private chamber, Chris asking if this experience has been everything he thought it would be so far, Andy responding that it's been "wild," not stopping to add "I swear it" because this is not "What Have You Done For Me Lately" and he is not Janet Jackson. He's just not tall enough. Chris asks which of the women made Andy's "jaw drop" when she got out of the limos, and at least two of the final four are solidified ninety weeks in advance when Andy tells us that Amber and Kirsten "both were glowing." Audree is "stunning" as well, he adds, and "direct." One of the girls who "didn't make a huge impression" at the beginning was Liz, but that she grew on him as the night went on. Andy promises that paring the list down from twenty-five to fifteen won't be an easy decision. Chris picks up the roses in this weird bamboo carrying case (I totally miss the All of Me bowl featured in Bachelorette seasons of old) and leaves Andy pondering why he's left staring at thirteen pictures of Heather. Or Amber. Or...oh, never mind.
Chris returns to the hallway to find the expectant women waiting...er, expectantly. Chris offers a cordial "good evening," and explains the Law Of The Roses because the people on this show have surely never seen an episode of this show before. Andrew steps out then, The Giant Rug Of Emotional Gulf standing between him and the woman who one day may become his bride until Page Six reports that they got into a boozy fight and threw tequila all over each other at Rehab or Fun and then one of them stormed out, crying. And she was upset, too.
"I don't see this as dismissing ten of you, but rather inviting fifteen of you to get to know me a little bit better. So here goes." Here it goes, indeed:
Kirsten, will you accept this rose? She's surprised, I think, and eyes so suddenly wide on a face so statically narrow creates a geometry so unlikely that math doesn't make sense anymore and the earth plunges in to darkness and chaos. Other than that, she was a pretty good choice for him.
Amber, will you accept this rose? Has staring into the clueless, vacuous, vacant eyes of someone so dumb ever actually made you dumber? If so, I'm Charlie and Algernon ain't never getting his flowers.
Rachel, will you accept this rose? Who?
Liz, will you accept this rose? She thanks Andrew and walks away with a minimum of emotion. She knows she's one rose closer to having to wear that awful wedding gown. Like, in public and stuff.