Lafayette is privy to some of the more adorable things about Eric (vanity, beauty regimen, relationship with Pam) and inspires a more than passing attraction in His Snowbound Highness. L makes it through a hilarious run-in with that horrible Fangtasian familiar Ginger, while Eric's too busy gaying it up with Bill at Forever 21 to notice, but his luck runs out eventually, and he is now a cliffhanger vampire buffet for Eric, Pam and Chow.
Sookie and Bill's obsessively trimmed chest hair discuss some postcoital things, then do it some more. Next day, she puts on the shortest shorts ever devised, and then I guess we missed the scene where she sustained brain injury because by the end she's trying to curry favor by taking Jessica to stalk her dysfunctional pre-death family, which is a dipshitty move even for Sookie Stackhouse. Jessica of course goes on a rampage, and ends up making her whole family a cliffhanger problem for Bill.
Jason makes and quickly alienates a new bromance on the bus to Jesus Camp, meets a cute little religious Hannah Montana -- who sings an amazing song you can get on iTunes -- and deepens his relationship with the Newlins. It's starting to be less about which cultmember poor Stackhouse is going to fuck, and more about which ones he's not. (Bonus: PTSD breakdownage during a sex-charged skit performance with Sarah earns him the nickname "Muslim Buffy With A Dick.")
Tara and Eggs's insanely sick body have a conversation about... No idea. I have no idea what they talked about. His iffy history probably. It doesn't actually matter. Put a shirt on next time, God. Then Sookie comes up to ask if Tara will move into the house with her, now that she's moving into Gran's room. I would keep my mitts off Tara for the time being, Sookie. Her family's hearts seem to be in rare supply of late. In other news, Maryann shows up to bug Sam and be totally fucking awesome some more. She orders everything on the menu, gives Daphne a fabulous pep talk, and starts a sexy dance party that not only gives us some rocking Andy Bellefleur moves, but is clearly halfway to some kind of religious frenzy. Here's to all the orgies yet to come!
Happy Father's Day! Or at least it was when we watched this episode. Less happy for Royce, who is currently serving as a snack to the Sheriff of Area Five, who is wearing flip-flops and foils in his hair while he eats the shit out of our formerly hot trashy friend. Lafayette -- while I'm sure relieved that Royce has stopped with the endlessly unrolling confessional we in the medical industry call "shitbrain" -- it's a little less easy to be remote from the situation when the gouts of deep-black arterial blood, and then body parts, come flying at your face. NARM! NARM!
Eric groans and acts post-coital for awhile and sort of pornishly lets the drops of Jupiter formerly known as Royce dribble down his chin, and Lafayette gollums himself back behind that pillar, because Eric does everything so intensely you have no way of knowing whether he's going to roll over and snore or else he's just coiling. "If you have any silver on you," Eric wheezes, "Now would be the time to reveal it." Lafayette swears he's not that stupid, but you and me and Eric, and Lafayette, know that's not really true either. He stopped being able to lay claim to his superiority once the bucket entered his life.
Eric breathes and acts sexy in a sort of unmoving reptilian way for awhile, and then wipes his mouth, and even Eric is a little impressed by the amount of total blood covering him from head to toe. "Is there blood in my hair," he says, not asking in tone, and Lafayette's like, "...Whut?" So he says it louder, in what is still a taciturn and sardonic tone on our mortal scale, but is for Eric like a hair-pulling desperate dementia: "Is there blood in my hair." Lafayette says he can't really tell, so Eric zooms to a crouching position right in front of him, grinning secretively. "How about now?" Lafayette must admit that, yes, there is just a bit, a little bit, a certain amount of blood. In his hair.
"Well, this is bad," Eric reflects. "Pam is gonna kill me." When Lafayette asks who the eff that is, Eric's delighted, looking him right in the eye, seductive: "Why, do you want to meet her?" Not in the slightest. The thing that scares the thing that scares me? No thank you. Even if it's about hairstyle. "Well, you're going to." Eric unlocks his collar and raises him up, shirtless in cargo pants, and Lafayette can barely walk, grabbing at the poles of the wheel as they go, Eric's hand on his neck like a friend after a very long, very dark night, up into Fangtasia! to find out what Lafayette knows. "I wouldn't try anything rash if I were you," Eric says, kicking Royce's leg, metal hip included, out of the way: "I'm still hungry."