Bud's honestly concerned and barely judgmental: "-- Sookie. You're a good girl. I hate to see you go down this path." Well, it's frustrating, isn't it? All the good intentions in the world don't amount to much when what they're taking away is your choice, your right to make choices. Sookie has been treated like a child or a Carson McCullers character most of her life, rolls her eyes. She hates it when people treat her like she hasn't got a lick of sense; like she's still just a kid, without choices, or a burden, in their way. Or a trespasser. It sucks; she feels alone in the world, like nobody understands her. They barely see her. She's just trying to be seen. To matter. These are the parts of her life she's claimed as her own, and she won't have anybody talking to her like anything less than the lady she's chosen to be. "Well lucky for you, Sheriff Dearborne, nobody's forcing you to watch. Now, if y'all two rednecks will excuse me, I gotta go." Bud watches her leave.
Adele's vacuuming the parlor when Sookie enters; she looks at her Gran bemusedly, hands on hips. "You know, he sleeps in the ground all day, I don't think he's gonna even look at the rug." Gran explains that we don't do this for them, we do it for ourselves: "So I can be proud of my home... And how do you know where he sleeps?" Sookie giggles and admits that she doesn't, and Gran starts vacuuming again. Sookie notices a smell, a rotten smell or something, which Adele can't smell, and gets a funny, low-key response: Gran sort of shivers all over, and goes, "Well find it!" Sookie moves the piano bench, and finds something small, like a bit of cheese or something, and takes it toward the garbage, confusing Gran.