True Blood

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A+ | 1 USERS: C+
The Stackhouse Filibuster

"Don't you ever get horny?" (Needs! Jesus!) Sam's half-assed attempt to be scandalized falls by the wayside and he admits that yes, of course, he has needs. "How long has it been since you've had sex?" Sam laughs, after a moment, but I mean, I love this so much, because the acting's so good that you can actually see this plan forming, moment to moment. A boy who can't be heard with a girl who can't really be seen, moving further and further apart; a girl and boy in love with other people, laying themselves open like this, negotiating closer and closer. Like the naked tennis just turned into naked paintball. Trying to score without being seen. He admits it's been a while, and watches her face as she commiserates, and asks how long it's been for her. Eight months and three weeks. They laugh together, noticing the things they have in common: Men and women have been doing this forever. Sam offers her another beer.

"Are you kidding? I'm an adult child of an alcoholic, I'll need at least three more." Maybe the reason Sookie loves Tara is because of her complete lack of filter, the raw wound that is her mouth; she's the anti-Bill, but they both mean no effort, to hide. Tara is no masks and no cameras, just this unceasing update on Things We Don't Talk About. And when Sam goes to get her next drink, she takes her hair down, and thinks about whether this is betrayal, of herself if nothing else, taking Sookie's castoffs. If anybody's actually capable of having sex without strings attached. Sam's a romantic, isn't he? Don't boys want what they can't have? Why the filibuster? Can't we just want things?

"So maybe you and I should sleep together," she says, following him, watching him laugh, gauging him every second. "I mean, we're grownups. No strings. Friends with benefits." He protests that she's his employee and she laughs in his face: "Sam! Aren't you sick of not getting laid? I know I am. D'you have condoms?" Sam's amazed, and just keeps repeating what a terrible idea it is. That he's going to walk into, once she's folded all his fears up and put them away for the night, with his eyes open. All men are dogs, looking only to be told that they're okay, and won't be punished for getting horny -- that pleasure isn't the sin they've been told it always was, that they're allowed to desire. Without masks. She drops onto his couch, looking up at him from between her legs. He stays safe in the kitchen.

"Whatever. I mean, I am not looking for a boyfriend. Especially one who could fire me. This would strictly be a one-time deal. We never even have to mention it again..." He says no again, and she's sad for a split second: "Suit yourself." But the seed is planted. He's just a man. The camera pushes up against him, as he watches her face at rest, apparently disinterested; it nuzzles him like a familiar pet. "...You think you'd be able to forget about it? And not let it affect our working relationship?" She stares at the ceiling: "I've had to do much harder things than that in my life. Believe me." Because if it got weird, he explains, he'd have to fire her. She looks at him, point-blank: "Big deal. Didn't even wanna hire me in the first place." She doesn't drop his gaze until he says yes.

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True Blood




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