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You don't have to call first at my house — There's Bette. How do I know it's Bette? Because the way she walks is the sexiest thing anyone's ever seen, and because she's wearing this lacy thing under a jacket, with jeans, and the whole ensemble has made me temporarily lose the ability to breathe evenly.

Bette is visiting Tina, and hoping to talk.

Bette: "Are you going to invite me in?"
Tina: "To tell you the truth, I'm not really in the mood for company right now. I'd rather you called first."

Bette looks wounded. I'm sorta stuck on the fact that she asked to be invited in — as if she's the vampire, not Helena. But yeah, it was the right thing to do, and something that she might not have considered, were she in Alpha mode.

So instead Bette asks if the apartment is okay, and Tina says it's fine, and is there something in particular? So Bette says (incredulously) that they should talk:

Bette: "I can't carry on, and pretend like it's all fine and that I'm not as confused as hell by the whole thing."

And by "the whole thing," she means the baby, and the fact that Tina kept it a secret while they were still together.

Tina: "I planned to tell you. And then you fucked off."
Bette: "I fucked up. I did not fuck off. I did not leave. I am still here. I want to have a place in this baby's life. This is our baby, Tina. Okay, I know that it's complicated. I know that there are no easy answers."

Bette just wants to work it out, but Tina says she's not sure she wants to do that, at least not in the way that Bette wants it. But Bette points out that they searched for the sperm donor together, and that Marcus Allenwood was her friend, and that if they were husband and wife, it would be her baby. That sounds weird, but you get the drift.

Tina: "Look, I just need to think about it. Okay? Just give me some time."

And as Tina closes the door, Bette does not fly into a rage as one (or at least I) might expect; instead, she sighs in an exasperated way and simply says okay.

Huh. Is this patience I see before me? From Bette? Huh.

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