Santana finds half a million things to do on the ranch that weren’t important before Brittany came. Kurt keeps Brittany company and begs Dr. Quinn to move the man back to town every day.
“He’s better off here, Kurt. So is Brittany. Smythe is throwing his weight around town something fierce.”
Santana tries to stay away; she really does. She knows it’s stupid, and more than likely going to get Brittany killed, but she can never seem to remember it while Brittany is kissing her. Even when she does manage to stay at the ranch she just sits around replaying conversations with Brittany in her head.
“She shot them all.”
“What do you mean, ‘she shot them all’?”
“Exactly that, sir. Everyone who has ever gone out to her father’s ranch has come back with holes in them.”
“Mr. Abrams, I’m an accountant. Perhaps it would be better if you got the Sheriff to—”
“She shot the Sheriff… and the Deputy. The new Sheriff won’t go out there,” Artie sighs. “Just don’t be threatening or impolite; it’ll be fine.”
Sir Gareth has the patience of a Saint. He does not lose his temper, nor his humor, even once while traveling all the way back to Camelot in the company of both Sir Finnocence the Tall and the Black Knight. The latter does not speak the entire journey; it does not stop the former from trying, then insisting, then taunting the Black Knight to converse. More than once Sir Gareth fears he will have to stop his companions from attempting to kill each other. Fortunately, it never comes to pass, and Sir Finnocence and Sir Gareth are greeted with cheers of homecoming in Camelot. The Black Knight looks on silently before disappearing in the direction of Sir Gareth’s blacksmith.
Santana would like Sociology more if half of the white boys in the class didn’t turn and look at her every time the professor said “person of color”. It’s like being back in Lima just after the commercial aired. Every. Damn. Time. Whatever, the same assholes can’t bring themselves to look at anyone when the professor talks about poverty. Still, it makes the hour and fifteen minute lecture twice a week exhausting. All Santana wants to do is go crash on her bed and not think until practice.