Bill laughs with her. "...But it always ends up the same." Bill wonders aloud: there must be people in her life that know. "The people closest to me, but... We never talk about it. And I do my best to stay out of their heads. Over the years I've learned how. I figure it's kind of unethical to listen in on my family and my friends, my boss. But they know. Other people suspect or... they think I'm psychic. Most people just think I'm crazy." This is the prerogative of Sookie's kind: they don't have to be invited. Romance takes a lifetime, you learn the better parts before the worst; Sookie gets it all at once, like a poem, light and dark. "It's sort of like ... a stream of consciousness. Gets weirder when people are mad or... upset and... sometimes... (A woman stares at her husband, across the table at Merlotte's, and faster than a blink she's shattered a bottle across his face; a woman watches her husband and does nothing) Sometimes it's just images."

She shifts under his gaze; he wants her. "...I should be gettin' home." He doesn't move. She tries to stand, and is shocked into a smile. "Wow. I feel completely healed." She is. This is life we're talking about: Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly my love, not nearly my love, not nearly. He cocks his head at her. "Do doctors know that v-juice can do this?" No way. "And we wanna keep it that way. I should show you to your car." He looks at her a bit longer and stands, holding out a hand.

At the party in Monroe, Lafayette knows everybody. He's like Puck, Mercutio, a mascot, everywhere at once. Tara watches him from afar, balanced against Sookie and against Lafayette too: she holds people at a distance because she must, and because she enjoys it. Most people just think she's crazy; everybody knows she's a bitch. There's nothing worse than a beautiful girl that doesn't want anything from you. A ridiculous man with a pick in his hair swaggers over, humming his approval. She grins, because he's a tool, and they introduce themselves. Terrell says "alright" before and after every clause in every sentence. "So what's a fine girl like you doing sitting here all by herself?" She answers honestly: "I'm watching my fool cousin trying to hit on the straightest man here." Lafayette backs it up, booty-dancing on the crotch of a man caught between affection and hilarity and stark raving fear. Terrell advances the theory that he's actually the straightest man at the party -- she can ask any of the "honeys" at the party to confirm. He's got that whole vulpine metro lady's-man thing happening, like TC Carson on Living Single: almost unbelievable, but very sure about itself. Terrell watches Tara watch Terrell.