"Let's hear it again for our very own Amanda Jane! You did very good, honey," Steve Newlin says sweetly, paternally, not a trace of desire in him, patting her lovingly on the back. She is doing God's work and by facilitating this, by making trendy this honesty and this surrender, this prayer, he is doing God's work too. "Honesty!" They calm down, in his presence, and Steve smiles down on them all. "That was 'Jesus Asked Me Out Today,' and it's on her new album. Which drops next Tuesday, is that right?"
She nods, a Jonas sister in a Simpson body, and says the words she's been taught to say. "Yes! Oh, look for it at Walmart, Target, Costco... And of course the single's already available for downloadin' on iTunes. So check it out!" They chuckle; they will. "I love you Amanda!" one young man screams, as she leaves. Steve waits for quiet. "You hate to have to follow that," he says in a wacky voice, and bids them take their seats. "We're gonna wind things down with a little game, which, while fun, should also be instructive. Because as each of you heads out into the world, at some point you will be faced with real life encounters with vampire sympathizers." They all boo, and Jason squirms.
That phrase could mean a lot. Maybe your sister's a fangbanger, and you still love her. Maybe you dreamed once, electric dreams, of fucking vampires and being fucked. Maybe you loved a vampire once, a little bit, and wept when he died, and felt so guilty you confessed to crimes you never committed. Maybe that's what that means. Is kindness sympathy? Is compassion treachery? Do we cross from light to dark when we learn to love the other? Can he come back from that?
"And we want to make sure that you're ready. So, Sarah honey, can you come on up here, please?" They cheer; Steve's "beautiful bride" will be the sympathizer, and -- as though offhand, as though they didn't see the powderkeg of loneliness and confusion the second Orry offered him to them on a pure silver platter -- let's just say Jason Stackhouse for the good guy. He's shocked. He's never played that role. Steve's smile is infinitely loving, and Sarah's expectation is so delightsome, and once he stands the cheers are so loud and so specifically his, belong so much to him as he belongs, finally, to them, well: how can he say no?
Sookie lets herself into Bill's, with her key, and calls out into the house. She can hear the television. Jessica stomps into the foyer like a true teenager, mouth agape, having a conniption about something, only too willing to start the story in the middle without even a hello: "I just saw my parents on TV!" Sookie knows, she did too. She expresses her sympathy and Jessica shudders: "I finally get why they never wanted me to watch it in the first place. It's horrible!" Sookie, not wanting to parent or get into this at all, asks where Bill is, and Jessica gives us the moment of the episode, a pitch-perfect and hilarious rendition of Bill's stern face: "I have no idea! All he told me was, 'Jessica, Ah have errands to run. Errands which do not require yore presence.'" Sookie does a good job of keeping a straight face, still concerned about Jessica's state of mind, while obviously delighting in it. "'So remain here, and do yore best to stay out of trouble whilst Ah'm gone.' And I hate it here. I hate it so much!" She stomps into the parlor and throws herself down on that red velvet couch.