Jason's tickled, and a little irked, as he turns back to the mirror. He was flossing that morning, that beautiful morning in the bathroom when Amy smiled at him and told him they could be a family, travel the world: Jason, Amy and Eddie. Like a pet, she said. And killed him. Voices claw up as he looks: "Die, Fanger!" and protestations that he is the tool of Satan, that he's a traitor. Eddie barely conscious as he brought the TruBlood to his lips, begging him to drink. To live. He shakes his head, eyes shut tight, vowing not to cry.
Sam wheels a keg out into the storeroom, struck by the intensity of the bar outside: the dancing, the laughter and shouting, the driving beat. Outside, they're serving themselves from the taps, dancing harder and faster. Jane, blessed, holds her arms up, like a goddess. What's gotten into her is everything. Everybody smiling, drinking in abundance, in their abandon. Andy Bellefleur dances, and when he dances he does indeed resemble an epileptic on meth; what makes him beautiful is that he doesn't care, anymore. Maryann dances about, crouching and beckoning; across the floor, smiling at her, Tara rides him. The women ride the men, against tables and stools. Jane's arms rise toward the ceiling, her body like a knife. Jane is gone, blessed with abandon; her eyes are black as night.
Maryann comes meekly, laughing, into Sam's office. He growls. "What the fuck is going on out there?" She shrugs. "I'm talking about the dancing and the gyrating and the people nearly having sex on the pool table?" She offers the theory that people returned from the rodeo in a good mood, and he pushes it too far. "Damn it, Maryann, this is my bar. These are my people. This is my town!" Too loud, and not the right words. This is tribute. They're not his. She stalks toward him, vibrating; changing state. He begins to whimper, as the air grows thick and quiet, throbbing. He begs her to stop. "Don't do that. I've seen you do that before..." Maryann's eyes close, rolling up to heaven, and Sam Merlotte begins to weep, begging her to stop. She pulls him in with her, and the world changes. He falls.
Maryann Forrester crouches and looks into his dog's eyes, smiling nastily. Offended and laughing. "Abracadabra, Sam. What I just did to you, I can do anytime, anywhere." To anyone, to them out there: to bless them, to bring the animals out, to live eternally. His eyes are scared, and so sad; he can't move. "So unless you want your customers to know your little secret, you better think twice before you threaten me ever again. Do we understand each other?" Never, and always.