Meanwhile Lorena's holding poor old Bellboy Barry against the door, chuckling grossly to herself about their sudden room service. "No. Uh, no. I don't do any..." Like they're going to be all, "Oh, I assumed you were a hooker. Our bad!" I was going to say working at Carmilla was way worse than say working in LA, but this is basically -- from what I've cobbled together from sensible sources like Dennis Cooper and Bret Ellis, not to mention my somewhat limited experience of pornographic cinema films -- what being a regular bellboy is like.

So I understand why Barry would assume Lorena's confused about his job title not being ho. She just loves that he's scared, because his heart is pounding which is probably tastier -- and I assume adrenaline in the blood makes it taste scarier also -- and Bill suddenly senses that Sookie is having some kind of issue. On top of the getting raped issue from five minutes ago, or the getting abducted issue from twenty minutes ago, or any of the other constant issues Sookie keeps running into.

"That bothersome human," Lorena muses to herself/Barry's face. "Just like an alarm clock you can't switch off. Blah, blah, blah, blah, and ten minutes later, blah." If Barry weren't mortally terrified you know he'd be like, girl I know. She touches his neck, he's scared, Bill gives his classically petulant/aggrieved tone to a gorgeous "I am not hungry" Everything he says is like this treasure trove of glove-smacking offense-taking. Although nothing will ever beat IT WAS PURE NIHILISM, which I've been screaming now for two weeks. "Julie & Julia? I thought you wanted to see The Orphan because you heard the ending was 'effed'," he says, long-suffering, and I say, "Ah did! BUT IT WAS PURE NIHILISM."

Lorena, pale and hungry, talks her usual game about how the real Bill is a lot more fun than normal Bill, and Barry begs for mercy, and she pops fang and commences eating. But she immediately pulls back, noticing something different about Barry. Something in the blood. "What are you," she grins, but before he can answer his fairy godmother in the form of Bill Compton picks up an entire flatscreen and bashes fuck out of Lorena, grabbing him and leaving Lorena in a puddle of her own spreading blood. Ah, old lovers. You can't eat a telepathic bellboy with 'em, you can't not live without 'em.

Next door, Jessica and Hoyt are finally fucking, and it's awesome. There's a moment of discomfort, but Jessica hurries him past that, telling him to shut up and keep going, and before you know it they are doing a great job. So of course Bill Compton zooms into the room yelling, and Jessica pulls the sheets up to her face, beyond mortified, and poor naked Hoyt is like, "I don't know what you heard, but those were screams of pleasure," as though that's less embarrassing, because he still thinks we're in daughter world, and has no idea that Bill could give less of a fuck about Jessica right now because Sookie is in danger for the fifteenth time in the last hour. "If you truly care for her," Bill says, which -- as Jessica groans with inhuman embarrassment -- is as close to his blessing as he's going to give, "You will take her to your car this very moment and drive her back to Bon Temps before the sun comes up." Because shit is going so well there: "Lovers," says Lafayette. "Oh shit, hooker..." Tara's surprised, sitting in Merlotte's after hours, because normally in these two-bit Tarot readings, isn't the Lovers good?