First, a quick heads up. The Lost Girl cast is taking over the @lostgirlseries account this week and will be answering your deepest, darkest questions via Twitter. Depending on when you’re reading this, you might catch your faevorite LG actor online. Zoie Palmer is on as of my typing this.
I’ll try to catch as many of them as I can, but I admit I’m a little busy preparing for Cataclysm. Today, though, I’m taking a break from World of Warcraft to recap 1.08. So, let’s get to it!
Ah, episode 1.08. It’s the episode we all hoped (and feared) would come. And it begins with a seriously hurt Bo stumbling her way to Dyson’s for some uh, healing. He tries to resist her for a good two or three seconds before giving in. Afterwards, Dyson feels how most wolfmen feel when succubi use them for sex: emo. Although, that’s pretty much how Dyson is all the time.
Dyson notes that Bo is healing a lot faster these days and Bo says exactly what she knows will make the wolfman grumpy: “Thanks. I’ve been working on that with Lauren.” Oh I just bet you have.
Dyson tells Bo that this was the last time she can use his body for her selfish needs. He’s not a piece of meat, you know. He has feelings. It’s hard to tell, given that he only has one facial expression, but they’re in there somewhere.
Later, and in snowy daylight, Bo and Kenzi break into an abandoned movie theater or warehouse, while discussing Bo’s love life. Bo’s annoyed that Dyson won’t let her use him for sex anymore. The jerk.
Ah, Kenzi. Ever the voice of logic and reason. Please switch over to Team Dr. Hotpants. We’ve got pizza.
While they’re discussing the finer points of romance, they walk around the darkened theater/warehouse with flashlights looking for the fellow they’re supposed to meet. Alas, their contact is kind of dead.
Oh, wait, no he’s still alive. Or, undead. Or whatever vampires are in the Fae world.
Apparently, Mr. Pointy Fangs has some information that Bo will want. He’s found Bo’s mother! He hands her a newspaper clipping with the picture of a woman’s mugshot on it. That’s what twenty bags of blood will buy you these days. Take note.