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Cleaning up — In the kitchen, Adrienne, Lynn and Tara talk while they scrub, wondering just what makes Noel tick. Or at least what makes her gay.

Lynn: I guess I don't get it, or … maybe she was abused or something.
Adrienne: Boy. You are from the 'burbs, aren't you?

Enter Claire, just in time.

Tara: Personally, I think it's a defect of nature.
Claire: Well, who would better know about defect than a Southerner, Miz Tara.

Latency and logic — Claire is in Noel's room, snooping. Noel catches her.

Claire: I didn't mean to intrude; I was just …
Noel: Wondering. [long pause] I'm beginning to think you were right about those meetings.
Claire: Oh, women can't help themselves. Latent bitchiness. Must be the Y chromosome.

Um. Huh? Yeah, I know I've already used that line, but … what? Pardon my latent quest for logic. I can't help myself.

Claire: You know, we are outnumbered.
Noel: [thinking ohmygod please let her be gay ] Hmmm?
Claire: Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but we are surrounded by dangerously bizarre women.

They chuckle and gaze at each other a little, and then Claire suggests a drink. So they sip whiskey by the fire.

OK, OK, I'm suckered in a teeny tiny bit: I mean, these two do have a little chemistry. And Claire's kinda good at the flirting thing. But the dialogue is still so … well, I'll just demonstrate:

Noel: It's not a problem, is it?
Claire: Not for me.
Noel: Some women …
Claire: Oh, don't worry. I don't have any inner homophobia. That's what you shrinks call it, right? Inner homophobia?

Yes. To distinguish it from the outer kind, which can give you a nasty rash.

Claire says she's into whatever feels good at the moment, and Noel wants to know what happens after that. Claire says she just waits for the next moment, but she does sorta get a little flustered about it. There are cracks in that free-spirited façade, and Noel is here to fill them. Um.

Strolling along — Claire and Noel walk along the beach, bantering about pornography and taboos. Ah, summer.

Play it — Claire is playing the piano. Noel shows up, wearing the same colors as Claire, but still more buttoned-up. She adores the way Claire tickles the ivories: “You have an extraordinary talent.” She confesses she especially likes Chopin, and they talk about torment.

The Hump Whale Inn — Claire and Noel are drowning their sorrows. But Noel is feeling a little uncomfortable. And Claire is feeling a little drunk. She figures Noel has had some heartache:

Claire: You know, whatever she did, fuck her.
Noel: Is that your answer for everything?
Claire: All I'm sayin' is that no one is worth losin' your joie de vivre over.

OK. Let's pause to do a quick count: genre, objet de passion, joie de vivre. And let's not forget Gauloises. And we're only 40 minutes in … how much more prefrenchiousness lies ahead?

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