Sam's Daphne pride flares up: "You saw me turn into a dog." It hurts her, physically. It's the end of the world, when things change that much. "And apparently that was worth abandoning me over. So I spent the next nineteen years... Making sure nobody would know who I really was. That's what you left me with." She weeps, apologizing over and over, until he gets uncomfortable and waves it off. "Hey, hey. I'm not here for an apology. I want to find the people you adopted me from. I want to meet my parents." She can't, she says: She swore not to. He goes, "Jesus Christ!" but what he means is, "Um, you also packed up in the middle of the night and left me behind as a child, which I'm fairly certain they would have also asked you not to do, if it had occurred to them what assholes you are."
"Please, trust me," Mrs. Merlotte swears. "You don't want to know them. They're bad people." She will be right, presumably. He points out that she's bad people too, and as she cries the baby monitor starts buzzing. They make their way down the hallway to Mr. Merlotte's room, where he's close to death. He scrawls a note, painful and slow, and Sam watches his eyes; there's still love there. Poor old Sam. He takes the note with shaking hands.
Melinda & Joe Lee Mickens
Last Known in Magnolia, Ark
Hoyt stands on the Compton porch, with a bouquet, calling her name.
Jessica straddles a man in a bright red eighteen-wheeler, kissing him hard. He tastes like beer, and cigarettes; she likes it. She smells like sex and candy, he likes that too. He rips open a condom, too drunk to focus on her beautiful face. "Now, before we go any further, there's something you ought to know." He calls her Sugar. "That I'm... I'm a virgin." His head flops around, barely there, horny: "That's okay. I'll be gentle with you. In fact, I kind of like it." Just like Daddy. "Really? Well, I don't like it one bit," she says, pops fang, and feeds. Good girl.
Hoyt finally gives in, placing the bouquet carefully on the porch, and wanders off into the night.
The hostess welcomes Bill and Sookie to the restaurant, and goes to get the music started: he's rented out the place. "The sight of you is not something I wish to share with others tonight." He promises it's okay for him to go all-out like this: "I love nothing more than to see you happy. It's really quite selfish." The strings that greeted them fade to country pop, and she asks what he can do at a restaurant. Well, Best Beloved, they can dance. So they do. They cut a rug or whatever. It goes on a while; there is laughter and giggling and some kissing. Bill's kind of hot, I guess. Her dress looks really pretty in motion. I don't know what else to say. You know how those two always are? It's like that, times a billion. They dork out powerfully. It is muscular.