My gays deal with the same lexical confusion: Fearing homosexuals is unfortunate but understandable, like any other kind of ignorance, but hating homosexuals is called "homophobia," because we don't have a separate word for it. I don't see this getting cleared up any time soon, because we like things oversimplified and we all love to be outraged, but that's the difference. One can be educated, the other one can't: It already knows the truth, but has sided with evil.
Funny Mike rides up to Lars's house on his stolen scooter and they chat about this and that, I guess the fat girlfriend broke up with him, so Silas finagles his way in there helping him move out. They sit down for a beer. "When I was 19, I was in a Whitesnake cover band," Lars says. "You could've gone camping in my hair." I like how Lars is just like this nice, Dearborn loser. Exactly the kind of guy you can see in her trail of dead. If he were super awesome this story would feel one way, and if he were a jerk it would go the other way, but instead it's in the middle. Just this douchey, nice guy.
He'd make a good dad for a person, if that were a thing you could choose. But not a good boyfriend or husband, unless you like them dumb and sweet and malleable, which just means you deserve nothing at all. This is so Nancy: Doesn't like 'em malleable, but the ones that get in under her radar -- bad but not evil -- and she mauls them too. Not because it's their nature but because of hers. Totally get that impulse, right? You want a man you can respect, but not one you have to respect. Somebody that will spank you but won't punch you.
Lars talks about the pussy in his bitchin' Camaro, and Silas makes a sort of slanty fun of him, sounding him for depths that don't exist, but the more he judges Lars the more he comes to like him: This is the simple man he was born to be. The simple man he thought Judah was. Maybe he was. Silas asks, casually, where Lars went to high school. East Dearborn, he says: "Take a Liking to a Viking!" Silas sidles up to it without looking and screws his courage to the sticking place and pretends to be surprised: "Really? My mom went there!" Nancy Price? Lars can't believe it, tosses out a STFU, and admits he used to ("f...") "date" Nancy Price once. "You don't look anything like her!" Lars says. "Here's hoping," Silas thinks.