Sam's managed to chase mysterious adorable Daphne all the way into the woods without running into Jamiroquai or Maryann doing culty shit, but as usual Sam doesn't know how great he has it. You think hair like that just happens? Please. Sam's amazing hair is the greatest hoax perpetrated on the American people since the consummation of the Newlins' marriage. She drops her panties and her boots, disproving our theory last week that she was capable of wearing clothing, all the while talking mad game about how Sam's terribly lonely, which duh, and then just vanishes. Sam comes around a tree and sees a delightful, delicate, wonderful little deer looking back at him with great big eyelashes, and before you can say twitterpated, it turns into Daphne. So of course Sam immediately starts screaming bloody murder, and credits.

While Sam sputters, Daphne gives him a knowing grin and a dose (I typed "does" first!) of shifter pride, and tells him how she's known they were both the same since she watched those two identical dogs running through the forest and one of them was Sam. She tells him for the third or eighth time that he's not alone anymore, and the kissing and hugging, and then Arlene and Terry -- eyes back to normal eye color -- come giggling through the forest. They all give each other the "all we do is fuck our coworkers" smile, unaware that they are acting under the auspices of some kind of magic orgy spell, and Daphne peaces. Terry picks up Arlene in his arms like a caveman -- "Come on, special lady!" -- and tells Sam they'll see him at work, and Sam stares around some more and wonders if Daphne just used her powers to turn into embarrassment for all concerned.

Meanwhile, Sookie has if you remember also discovered a kindred spirit in Bellhop Barry, who wants zero percent of her mess, and corners him in the hallway, where he psychically cowers and hopes she's not some horrible creature bent on killing him. She is all kinds of Sookie Stackhouse on him immediately, crawling right up his psychic jock about how they have to be best friends and have psychic conversations about psychic shit, but before he can tell her to back off, she snarks at a Carmilla familiar zombying down the hallway between them with an ice bucket full of his own blood or whatever, having finished his fangbanging shift for the night.

Barry's like, "Don't smart off to the guests!" and Sookie's like, "He's clearly the fuck out of it, if you can't tell from the total lack of blood in his body, use your mind powers." All that is in there is like a Malcolm MacLaren remix. Sookie realizes that Barry does not know all about being telepathic yet, which she sees as one more opportunity to climb inside his clothes with him and commence best-friending the shit out of him, and Barry will have none. He explains that vampires are horrible and scary, and will suck your blood right out of you, like that's their whole thing, especially if they know you are magical your own self and can do things like hear thoughts and be unglamoured: "Listen, I don't know what little fried corn-on-the-cob town you're from, or what candy-ass vampires you're with, but this is Dallas, baby!"

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