Hoyt's brought with him some B+ and has, as usual, left behind his subtlety detector. Jessica tries to stay strong, asking what he's doing there like it's an imposition -- "It's almost dawn," she spits, like he's trying to kill her his own self. She can't look him in the eyes, so she swings her hair around and stares at the floor, desperate for somebody else to fix it. She has to be strong. He can't come in, or he'll know what she did. What he made her do. "Hoyt, you can't keep showing up leaving stuff at my door." I'll take care of it myself, like I do everything else.
"If there's one thing that I learned from this whole thing with my mama, it's that I gotta take better care of you. You couldn't control yourself!" He compares it to the dumbest and the easiest thing -- people "walking around with hamburgers on their necks" -- and she jerks away. That's not what it's like at all. He doesn't know what it's like and he never will, the way it feels so good that you can't stop. "Biting people -- getting so mad that I do bad things by accident -- that's in my... It's in my nature."
"That first kill, it's got a way of making you feel like that's all you are. But you've got to know that you are still ... capable of goodness, and of heartbreaking generosity of spirit. And if you can cling to that with everything you've got, you're gonna be all right. I promise."
Hoyt's nature tells him to go home to Maxine and do whatever his momma tells him, until he's in the grave: "We can fight our natures together!" Always a bad idea, but this time? Impossible. It's too late. She's done it now. It's her nature now.
She locks the door behind her, and he leans against it. She can feel him there, and the blood in his veins. He can't feel her heat, because she has none. And when he's kicked the door and called her name and gone, weeping -- still ignorant of what she really is, still able to believe we can fight our natures, together or apart -- she'll make her way straight to the consequences, and pull that trapdoor open, as the sun is pulling at her, just below the horizon. Pulling her down, into the earth. And it will choke her, she will gag. But she'll climb into bed beside a body, and smell for herself what she's done, and in just a little while she'll be every bit as dead as him, for awhile.
Across the cemetery Sookie makes her way through the house, alerted to the sound of footfalls, and grabs the man in her kitchen, kneeing him in the balls in the cold half-light. "Unh! My family junk!" he says, chicken leg still held aloft, and she apologizes. "It's five AM, what are you doing eating my chicken in the dark?" He shakes his head: Couldn't sleep, too many holes in heads, and Gran doing handstands in her grave if she saw her house redecorated by a maenad, so he came to clean up. "And then I got hungry," he shrugs, taking a bite of chicken. After all, he figured she'd be with Bill anyway. Her face melts, ugly-crying, and she holds out her arms wordlessly to him. It's been a night.