Half-naked Hoyt worries about Jason's well-being, because they are roommates and because half-naked Jason is lying on a recliner with his nightstick and sighing. Let's just sit with that for a moment. Jason has finally realized not even Jason Stackhouse is too stupid for depression. I think they should do some pushups; that would probably help. It couldn't possibly hurt. Or maybe puppies. Shirtless Hoyt and Jason with a bunch of puppies is about the most undepressing thing I can think of.
Well, not too far off: Hoyt presses further and Jason admits that yes, this is about Crystal, and the essential unknowability of those we love, q.v.: How can he possibly love her this much after just two sightings and a moonlit dry-hump? And who is that man claiming to be her fiancé? Why does she stay in the environment of Hotshot when he can offer her so much more? What is it about the curious blank pages of our loved ones' history that calls to us, denies us, tames us and electrifies us? Would we be better knowing they had once loved, once embraced, once been dedicated to someone before our meeting them? It seems impossible, when the unending now of their passion obliterates his own history: How can that effect be denied him in the negative space of her own? Are we forever doomed to take that blankness on for our own, accepting all past ties and the countless characters in the drama of our beloved, for the greater good of our common future? And the impulse: Is it base, rank jealousy? Or simply our passionate need to know them better, further, to know them completely? Should those unknown places -- perhaps contributing to our passion itself -- remain denied us? And how, trailing endless heavy loads of history and pain, can we ever expect to move forward? Together, or alone?
Um j/k he's totally like "Do you think she's named after the champagne?"
Jason presumes that Crystal was named for Cristal; Hoyt presumes, given the Hotshot connection, that she was named after her nation's chief export: "I'll bet you 100:1 her middle name's Meth." Jason pronounces this unchristian, and Hoyt must accede. But he was only mean to make Jason listen! Nothing shall make Jason listen. He pursues that which he desires with a single-minded fury known only to the most passionate among us. Hoyt reminds him of the time a few episodes ago he took down a drug dealer, and Jason waxes: "Reminding me of last week's glory ain't gonna change the fact that this week ain't done shit for me yet!"