The next day, Nevan and Olivia laze around at her apartment and begin the catty conversation that is their only function on this show. Nevan sneers over what a hipster crowd attended the opening. From anyone else, I would agree. But this is Nevan, and everything he says sucks. He once again shoehorns into the episodic dialogue this bullshit notion of Uptown versus Downtown. Seriously, next week they'll start doing choreographed routines as they rumble in the streets.
When you're a Douche,
You're a Douche all the way
From your first amuse bouche
To your last dyin' day!
They persist in their delusion of introducing Whitney to "other groups of friends," a.k.a. their Uptown butt-monkeys. It's for her own good! Nevan, as is contractually mandated, brings up "that little lovers' tiff," saying "girls will be girls." Good God, how is he not gay? Are we sure those Floridian prostitutes were fully female? Shudder. Speaking of shuddering, that's exactly what they do at the thought of future A-hole girlfriend drama. Oh, shut up, bitches. Y'all are totally licking your collagen-ed lips in anticipation.
Over at Whitney's skypad, Jay and Whitney are still hashing this out. Jay persists in believing his homeboy with decidedly patchy record. Whitney makes several valid points, for example that this random accusation was completely out-of-the-blue and that it's peculiar that A-hole chose not to interject. Why would he not back up his girlfriend? Oh yeah, because he's a coward. Jay brings up the weak, totally damning conversation when he asked A-hole about the kiss, except he lies through his teeth and says A-hole denied it. Revisionist, much?
Whitney is still pretty miffed about the whole thing -- despite the fact that it basically has nothing to do with her. And, as young lovers do, Jay wonders how they got into this argument in the first place. Whitney brings up a good point, that one's friends are a reflection of one's self. And, from what I've seen of his friends and his own behavior, Jay is a douchebag. But at least he's a douchebag that knows when he's been out-argued, and he backs down. Whitney takes one last pot-shot, suggesting rather unsubtly to Jay that he shouldn't ever pull this bullshit on her. He pulls her horse-face reins back a notch because that is another conversation for another day. Like after she saw what a dirt bag he was being at the club the night that all this started...
Downtown, at Mercbar, A-hole and A-holette meet as hipsters sing about getting their heart broken. Hopefully they will follow the music supervisor's advice and break up. Then internally combust on the spot. Or at least get on a boat whose course is set for an island as yet unrecorded by maps. A-hole tries to make nice, but she gives him the one-two punch of cold shoulder and bitchface. Okay, he is wearing a jacket made entirely of garbage bag-like pleather. Everything he says throughout this entire conversation is already discredited. Anyhow, he bites the bullet and apologizes -- though still takes no accountability for all of his actions that led up to last night's imbroglio. A-holette lays it out there that she felt like an idiot. It's fundamentally his doing, yet she still toes the company line and blames Cat. They're both in denial. Oh, go book a ticket on Oceanic Airlines already!