Jason's not so distracted that he isn't touched by all this bro effort, but flees the multivalent intimacy and questions of all of it by preparing sloppy joes for them both, explicitly: "I'd rather be cookin' than talkin', anyhow."
THE PRINCESS OF LOUISIANA
Unable to deal with any of her boys, Jessica has gone -- or possibly been summoned -- back to King Daddy's castle, where he is giving her the information on Antonia Gavilán de Logroño: How she marched the vampires out into the sun, back in the day, and is now quite seriously and demonstrably back in play. Bill, in line with his new thing of being the only competent Monarch we've ever seen on the show, has extrapolated her plan -- destroying Earth's entire vampire population -- and come up with a very dramatic solution: Go to ground and silver themselves, every known vampire in whatever radius, at least for the coming day, while working out other plans to take care of things.
Blackburn and the other Sheriffs are weirded out by this plan, of course, but it gives Bill a reason to say aloud the thing that we're meant to infer about him as King of Louisiana, which is that he takes his people very seriously and that -- against the example of Monarchs we have known -- he will be going down with the ship if he must. That somewhere between working against the Monarchy while working his way up through the ranks, he's become the kind of revolutionary that actually understands why hierarchies and power exist. Say what you will about working against the Man from the inside, I think it's fine and an outdated hippie complaint to say otherwise, but when you combine it with the kind of honor and need-for-purpose that Bill Compton was born human with, things can get very dangerous indeed.
"We brace for the Resurrection," he says, which leads right into...
Yeah, I'm calling them "Rookie," for about a million reasons. I hope it catches on. They say some ridiculous blood-bondy stuff to each other as they slowly fuck their way home through the swamp and onto the porch and into her foyer, and I guess it's good that Sookie doesn't really have any neighbors, because how embarrassing: "I'm listening to your heart beat. I can feel it, every pulse. Through your skin, into mine. If I lay still and think about nothing else, it feels like my own heart is beating" is not a monologue that looks good on anybody, even the eight feet of sex that used to be Eric Northman.