After a beat, Tara asks Maryann, why Sam hates her, and she makes a hilariously fake sad frowny face, like, completely innocent and bothered: "Sam hates me?" Tara explains about the whole blowup last night, but doesn't mention the fact that he spits every time Tara starts with Maryann's particular kind of Ayn Randian self-belief agenda. Maryann offers the theory that it's because they used to date. "Still not valuing yourself. You are a fantastic woman. Sam lost you. He's just looking for someone to blame," she says, licking what is turning out to be a very impressive joint.
But, Tara wonders, still: why Maryann? Obviously because Tara's "moved on," and obviously because Maryann's "been a part of making that happen." She shifts into better-than-Sam mode, inviting Tara into it, sighing: "Sam seems like a sensitive, wonderful guy, but all my instincts scream... 'unevolved'." Tara laughs, although she doesn't know the joke hiding inside that statement, and agrees that he has too many issues. "And they are not your problem," Maryann reminds her. "Unlike Karl, you've done enough taking care of people to last a lifetime." She holds out the giant joint, which Tara is tickled to see includes a filter. "Little technique I picked up in Ibiza. Adorable, isn't it?" (I love how whenever anybody says "Ibiza," everybody in the room laughs, because it sounds retarded but especially so when the person is jetsetty/Europretentious like old Maryann.) She holds out one of those big ornate silver table-lighters that looks like a Nouveau grenade, and Tara sighs. "Oh, fuck it. I don't have to be at work till four."
Terry Bellefleur drives up listening to banjo music; Sam's carrying box after box out to his truck. They talk about how Sam's going to be doing some traveling, not sure where, and Terry mentions that although he hasn't been a lot of places, the places he's been all sort of sucked and turned him crazy. I can see that casting a pall over future travels, yeah. Sam asks him to take care of the bar, just until he gets back, which he never is. And I feel like this is partly Sam worrying that without him to take care of Terry, nobody will take care of Terry, and this way he'll be able to take care of Terry forever, by essentially giving him the bar, which is... For some reason that conversation about the raccoon penis is still the saddest thing in the world to me. I completely understand Sam's need to take care of Terry now.
So Terry is not feeling it, because that's a lot of responsibility, and says that he's not a great choice. Sam says he can't find Sookie, and Lafayette's been gone for weeks, and Arlene's got kids and grieving to deal with, and Tara's "going through some personal stuff," so it's him. Or I guess Daphne, but that just means Bon Temps would come burning down around their shoulders ahead of schedule, so Terry. "Feeling the pressure," Terry says nervously, kicking at the dirt, but Sam knows that it's the kind of pressure that will make him focus. "You're all I got. Do it for me, buddy?" Terry agrees and Sam puts him on the shoulder and says he'll hand over the keys later. And then Terry does that thing he does.