Well, it's Sunday so Sookie's doing her favorite thing, screamin', and Bill's doing his favorite thing, bein' appalled. In this case, he's appalled about Sookie screaming. She's screaming because he sort of killed her, and he knows that, but you know, he's a sensitive fellow. Everybody jumps and runs around and yells -- Tara because she hates vampires, Alcide because he has a chip about them too, and Jason because he killed somebody a while back -- and Sookie finally tells everybody to leave so she can discuss the whole getting murdered thing with her boyfriend. Alcide in particular gives Bill a bit of attitude before leaving, and then they discuss the situation like -- get this -- grownups.
Bill notes that her screaming probably means she's afraid of him, and can't really argue that she has the right to be. He swears he didn't mean it, which she knows, and that he was having a pretty bad day before that, which she also knows. "I don't know how to start forgiving you," she says, which pretty much covers it. Of course, Mr. Bill Compton and forgiveness go together like Hotshotters and heterozygous gene-pairings, so he broods powerfully about how he doesn't want to be forgiven, just punished and punished and punished.
Sookie's more about how they've only been dating for six weeks and in that time she has been fed vampire blood, had her own blood sucked a few times, attacked by vampires and werewolves in several instances, had to deal with Talbot, there was a demigoddess done fucked up her house, Debbie keeps calling her a bitch, Gran died real nasty in her kitchen, she cut off a dude's head with a shovel, rough sex in a graveyard, Eric is very confusing, there is some lesbian weirdness on occasion, watched a pocket gay self-immolate, brother started doing drugs and joined a couple of cults, and instead of getting like a second to catch her breath it was just more bullshit all the time. Maybe, Sookie suggests, just maybe this is not the life for her.
Sure, having a boyfriend whose thoughts you can't read worked out in the short term, but also and on the other hand, not knowing the person you're dating means sometimes getting stalked and/or murdered by that same fella. Bill responds that he wants her to have the finest things in life, like children and a tan, and they break up like grownups; once his arm is disconnected from her transfusion line he leaves, CGI blood tears dripping down his face. Maybe this way, we get out alive.
Meanwhile Sookie, always a champion of the ugly cry, forges ahead into new ugly-crying territory. There's no loneliness quite like hospital-gown loneliness.
Apparently Queen Sophie-Anne has as many rare birds as she does trunks and boxes full of junk. She also has no time for her tiny little room in Russell's house (I wonder if she's still in that birdcage? Guess not, now that she's part of the Conspiracy) and no Hadley at all. I guess she's somewhere in the luggage. Talbot throws a hissyfit about having his husband's wife in the compound, and Russell tells him to chill because he just got Talbot the entire state of Louisiana in the process. Talbot doesn't care about Louisiana, because it can't be redecorated in Late-Century Gay or muddled with mint for a refreshing afternoon beverage, but he does care about the facts that Tara got Franklin's brain all over the sheets, he's now had to supervise burying werewolves under the gazebo, and "that Sookie bitch staked Lorena." The last of which is not, in itself, a problem, but all this has made a mess of his nerves. He and Sookie are both having quite a night, I guess; why don't we just blame Bill for this too.
While Eric watches from behind an arch, very intense, Russell tries unconvincingly to kissyface Talbot into shutting up and then pulls the sheepish-husband Homer Simpson card about how he acted "somewhat impulsively" while he was in Shreveport. Talbot's like, "Here we go. What." Well, he killed the Magister. Talbot throws another wobbler about that, and we recap about the Authority and how everybody's in big trouble now and how Russell doesn't care for some reason. "You're acting like a century-old child. Relax!"
After all, Russell's just sent the AVL $500K to support the stupid VRA, so that should chill them out -- so as we suspected, then, the American Vampire League and thus Nan Flanagan are highly connected to this Authority; less unsurprising is the implication that the Vampire Rights Amendment is somehow not entirely on the up-and-up if that's the case -- and Talbot whines. "You can't buy your way out of everything!" Of course he can, he explains: "This is America." Eric appears to tell His Majesty there's a werebitch in the study, and Russell's like aw man when Talbot hisses, "Go, while I babysit your wife."
Russell loves Debbie as much as we do! That's nice. I like Russell pretty much. Debbie is of course still covered in blood and tackiness and yelling, "They killed my Cooter!" And he didn't even die a hero, as Russell suggests, because he was only in there to get more drugs and have more gross sex with her. And then Alcide shot him. So Debbie's plan is to find their heads and rip them off their bodies. Russell giggles about this -- not that he'll go for it -- but Eric sort of overplays his hand about how, even if we all do "enjoy a good head-ripping" from time to time, Sookie Stackhouse-Sookie Stackhouse-Sookie Stackhouse is very important and special. Debbie says she's especially a cunt for fucking Alcide and making him shoot her fiancĂ©, and Russell says that yes, but Sookie is a "special cunt." So he says Debbie can go "play with her," but no head-ripping.