Eggs smiles at Tara again, almost bashful, playful, and they pass the joint. "Doesn't it seem like she's got an endless supply of tropical fruit?" Tara giggles. "And pot." He hadn't noticed, he's been smoking pot since he was ten. "My first kumquat? Three months ago." He pops it in his mouth with delight. She sticks her feet in the pool, laughing at her twelve-year-old self for feeling brave with cigarettes. He did worse; he saw worse. She asks suddenly if he's been with Maryann, and he stares at her. "You must be high!" She smiles, but he's serious also: "She's so far beyond me, it's like she's on another plane. I'm starting to get her more and more every day, but I think the main idea is, we're all luckier than we can imagine." The painting stands between them, as they sit, framed by decadence; his hand is on her knee.

Tara's thoughts turn to the body -- her first -- last night, and he illustrates his point: "You're lucky you made it this far before seeing one." And of all the ones he's seen, he's lucky in turn not to be one of them... And that she hasn't moved his hand yet. She giggles, stoned in the sun, and he leans in to kiss her.

"Fresh towels!" Karl says, having appeared out of nowhere, even though they aren't wet. She jumps. "They're Egyptian..." Eggs thanks him and he vanishes again; she stands to change for work, and inside Maryann smiles at her, in the kitchen. And when she's gone, Maryann summons Karl to her, slamming him into the floor with one great fist. "Nobody needed towels!" she thunders, and steps over him and away as he moans.

On the road crew, Jason wrestles once again with his particular angel: in this case, the shadow and the light of Rene, Drew Marshall. The man who killed his grandmother and the only woman he really ever loved; who tried to kill his sister, and killed his own sister. The man only Jason knows how close he came to becoming. I've said and maintain that Jason had all the ingredients to be a Drew Marshall -- that strange sexual attraction to vampires and their familiars, that troubled projecting protectiveness toward his sister -- but was only saved by this: his ability to love past any amount of hate. The man who killed his grandmother, his only parent since Jason was nine years old? "I guess I do miss that son of a bitch. He was my best friend."

Hoyt misses him too, but acknowledges that they never really knew Rene, not really. Jason can't believe that God would let Rene fall, and die, for no reason at all. "When I was in jail, the Fellowship of the Sun? They came to visit me." Hoyt wrinkles his nose, but Jason tries to explain to him about how they're not just about hate, how the true message is love. He's not got it figured quite yet, and explaining it to Hoyt isn't helping, but he knows that if he's going to find answers, it will be with them. Hoyt points out that they've got churches in Bon Temps, the kind that teach you Christian love, and no hate. Jason shakes his head condescendingly; Hoyt's caught up on the hate. "The Fellowship, it's bigger than that. When I'm there, I feel like I'm meant to be a part of it, like I got a calling from Jesus. Or from Steve Newlin himself."