Is still doing it right, clanging off shit and throwing refrigerators and making Sookie and Lafayette squeal and clutch at each other. Eventually she hunkers down on the sink, looking majestically crazy, crouched and staring with a hungry and unfocused eye. They tempt her with a Tru Blood; when she tackles Lafayette and tries to bite him, the Maker bond makes her scream in pain and frustration and hunger, snatching at her hair and turning her face up to the sky.
Even the most Tara-hating person has always given Rutina Wesley her props for being a magnificent actress, but I gotta say. If you showed up to work and were like, "Here's what you're doing today: You're a feral vampire who may or may not have a literal brain in your vampire head, but you're gorgeous and a mountain lion, and then you have to bite your cousin and best friend, but you can't, which makes you sad but also you are the embodiment of rage," I doubt any of us would do it with this much confidence, much less skill. What I mean is, it's somehow actually believable. You actually believe you're seeing a vampire freak out about some very complicated shit -- and also that it's Tara, fundamentally, regardless of what she's lost. What else she's lost.
Ginger, looking bonks of course: "Pam, where ya been? I had to open alone. Is Eric back? Did he call? Why are you all dirty?"
Pam: "I was in the ground. What's your excuse?"
Ginger: "My excuse is mental illness, as usual."
San Francisco, 1905. Pam, wearing petticoats and the like, hung out in the parlor of a whorehouse (hers?) and ate lobster and did coke for awhile, before heading upstairs to check on one of the girls. Whom, it turned out, had been ripped all up by vampires in one of the rooms upstairs. "God damn them," she choked out, in fearful and outraged tears. So I guess this is one of those vampire infestations that happen so rarely and yet so often.
"Eric, if you're mad at me, fine. I can deal. But you can't just vanish. We have a business to run."
For what it's worth, she seems a lot less desperate than she did, suddenly. Maybe she's just tired. She's had quite a day, old Pam.
Nora, Bill and Eric are in a sequence of cages with presumably silver mesh for bars, and then down at the end there's a burned-face critter named Nigel Beckford, a nurse practitioner who wouldn't quit eating newborns in the maternity ward at his hospital. He seems -- "So succulent!" -- unapologetic about this quirk.