Should we be surprised that a Death Train is decrepit? Probably not. Should we be surprised Bo is still torn between two lovers? Definitely not. Should we be surprised that a bottle of the black kidnapper smoke that took Bo in the first place is about to be opened in a reckless hail-Mary effort to finally reveal the identity of The Wanderer? Girl, please, have you been watching this show? Reckless is practically its middle name. (p.s. It’s real middle name is “Leather.” Wait, or is that its safe word?)
Dyson and Lauren agree that opening the jar of wormy black smoke is a good idea–because their bromance has entered the mind-meld phase. Trick and Kenzi are less convinced. But they resign themselves to reckless impulses and arm themselves with whatever is handy. Kenz will fork you up, people.
Out goes the lid, up goes the smoke and pop goes the weasely corporeal form. The jar contains a crow named Hugin. He and his brother Munin are servants, and sons, of The Wanderer who have been doing his bidding and took Bo to his train. Sure, on the surface those names sound more like designer diaper brands, but in actuality it’s just those sneaky Lost Girl writers reading up on their Norse mythology.
Yadda yadda yadda, brother trapped him in the bottle, yadda yadda, sleeping with his wife, yadda yadda, help him get revenge, yadda, will take her to The Wanderer. Yadda. Dyson and Lauren are like, let’s saddle up. But Hugin is like, no go. I’m a crow, not an albatross–this ride is only for one. Of course, they protest, because where that hot little honey pot goes so do they. Torn between two bodyguards is somewhat less romantic, but no less well intentioned.
Bo gives them the it’s not you, it’s me who can’t decide who I love more because that would totally kill the love triangle which this show has used shamelessly as a key plot driver for four seasons now. And then, poof, she’s gone.
But, hey, who said dueling romantic foils have to take such willful indecision without a fight? Dyson and Lauren suit up for battle in their own ways–one with fire power and another with syringe power. Sure, he’s got the weapons and the wolf, but Dr. Hotpants has the brains–and vials full of junk-melting Fae STDs.
They vow to go get “our girl,” which–hold up. That’s weird, right? I mean I know they’ve agreed to disagree over who loves Bo the most and who Bo is right for and who has the biggest … heart. But I draw the line at the “our girl-ing” of Bo. Unless this triangle is about to turn into a ménage, I’m all for singular possessive pronouns. Or, no possessive pronouns.
Though, I do enjoy the respect Dyson and Bo have been affording each other these days. Though I like even more how while Dyson sees the gray area around matters of the heart, Lauren is all black and white. This lady has no problems choosing. None whatsoever.
Also having no problems choosing–to be a jerk–is Trick who gets huffy with Kenzi and Tamsin when they come to him for answers. The Trickopedia has been more like Yahoo! Answers of late, filled with half truths and name calling. Trick calls them a lowly human and low-life, respectively, and then storms off telling them to leave it be.