The dioramas of the sea, outside the Queen's dayroom, are as ornate as they are lifeless: gulls, and ocean fantasies like a Disney gallery. The song plays -- "Oh, the good life, full of fun/ Seems to be the ideal..." -- as we see the humans, lined up in revealing costumes across the water: French maid, film star, pool boy, Olympian. Quite a buffet. "Yes, the good life lets you hide/ All the sadness you feel/ You won't really fall in love/ For you can't take the chance..."
The Queen offers Bill a choice of meal, and he smiles tightly, begging off. "William, you have to eat before we play Yahtzee. I need you to play your best game!" When he explains that he only feeds from Sookie, he knows that he just fucked up, and then two things happen: First, Hadley's eyes swing around to stare at him, so I guess she doesn't know about their relationship, and second, the Queen's true face shows through again for a second: "Why on Earth would you do that." He asks again to leave, and Sophie-Anne responds with a distraction, clapping for the Latvian hottie. "Ludis! Ludis, this is my good friend Bill Compton. Would you allow him to feed from you?" Ludis kneels, nearly naked, at his feet, offering to let Bill fuck him in the process. "William, you have to at least try him. I insist." So he does. It's delicious, and so long in coming. "I love watching two men together," the Queen says to her retinue across the pool, and their laughter is one that courts have known since time immemorial. Just because Bill doesn't get irony doesn't mean irony's enough to live on.
Maryann approaches a very jumpy Lafayette in the wild edge of her yard, holding up a fat green weed: "Horse nettle. Also known as bull nettle, the Devil's tomato..." -- and yes, she pronounces tomato the way you think -- "And my personal favorite: The Apple of Sodom." He shivers. "It's quite poisonous. But in the tiniest of doses, a savory addition to any wine-based sauce." She tastes it, moaning, with Karl at her side. "Mm! Gives it a pungent hint of madness. A little touch of total abandon." She steps closer to him, intrigued and proud, and he begs her not to come closer. "I can tell that you are no stranger..." -- Bitch, I said stop! -- "...To total abandon." We always knew he was one of hers; so did he. Never more so than now that Eric's taken away everything that ever kept him sane. He fires the gun and she holds up her hand, proving new geometries upon the world: an angle becomes a corner, deliriously, and strikes Karl through the temple. He falls. "Oh, poor Karl!" she mourns. "You didn't really advance much in this lifetime." She turns smiling -- something familiar in her smile, I mean to say -- to Lafayette, looking for a replacement: "You cook, don't you?"