In the awkward quiet, you can really hear the eponymous Fiona Apple song for the first time, speaking the words that Sookie can't say; the words not even Tara can say for her: I do not struggle in your web/ Because it was my aim to get caught/...I'm finally growing weary/ Of waiting to be consumed by you... The last words Jason would ever say, now, a clean boy in a dirty world, watching the fangs take over his house like they've taken over his body and all his women and his thoughts and his dreams and his blood: Give me the first taste/ Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever/ Darling, just start the chase/ I'll let you win/ But you must make the endeavor...
To break the tension and continue his flirtation with Gran, Bill points out that he's the oldest person there, by like 75 years, and everybody laughs except Jason, who makes a hilariously ugly fake-laugh face. Because he's so grown up, you see. Bill escorts Sookie out of the house, and Jason whines that Adele made him look like a fool in front of Bill Compton. "You don't need any help looking like a fool," she says kindly, patting his cheek. There's no way for him to explain that it's just survival. This is the area of his life he's trying to claim as his, his body and his home and his family, and here they are invading on every level. He's just trying to stay clean and afloat, and they keep taking away his options.
Walking through the yard, toward the field, Sookie puts it on the table immediately: "I went to the Rattrays' trailer," she says matter-of-factly. She doesn't have much to say about that, other than knowing they need to talk about it. It's a nice note on her character, that the Rattrays have offended enough of her rules -- e.g., No Killing Sookie -- that she doesn't really seem to care that they died. If Bill hadn't shown up, I wonder how far she would have gone. He follows her lead, deadpanning that she knew he was strong, and she's hilarious as usual: "I don't believe I fully gauged the extent of your strength." He says they get stronger as they get older, and better at hiding their tracks. She points out that in this case, a highly implausible tornado that acts like no other tornado ever was not the best option. Their laughter is whistles past the graveyard of their differences and the realities -- blood, sex, death -- of his existence. And hers. And ours.
"So. I guess you've killed a lot of people?" My God, this is like every date I've ever been on. Bill admits that he killed a few at first, when he was new, just by accident: "I was never sure when I was gonna get my next feed... But it's all different now! There's Tru Blood, I can get donor blood from a clinic in Monroe, or I can glamour someone into letting me feed on them for love, and then they'll forget all about it..." Sookie stops and asks if he ate the Rattrays. He did, while she was out of it and healing: "You drank a lot of my blood," he says, like that's his excuse. Maybe it is, I lost my moral compass about a mile back. "Yes, I drank the blood of those crackheads we magically beat up, and then stashed the bodies under their home, which I destroyed. As is my prerogative. But to be fair, you had sucked a lot of blood out of my body at the time, and I was fairly hungry." Sookie summons her courage and asks the question she's got to ask: "What will that do to me?" Keener senses, hyperactive libido, they both blush and she asks if that's it. She doesn't look up; she knows there's more. What's the most romantic thing you can think of? If you shared bodily fluids with somebody, out in the night air, what would you want to be true? "I'll always be able to feel you. I'll be able to find you fast. If you're ever in trouble, that could come in quite handy." She looks him in the eye, conflicted: "You're gonna have to give me a minute here, Bill. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed." She walks on and he follows behind; she looks at him over her shoulder.