Hemlock Grove

- Sausage? - Vegan.

Since I was 15, I haven't eaten anything with a face.

- So... - So?

Uh, the baby... the one upstairs?

- Right. - ... has been bothering me.

Not the baby per se, more like the entire situation.

I mean, it is pretty fucking weird when you get right down to it.

Did I make a wrong turn through a wormhole into some fucked-up Victorian novel...

...where a top secret baby is being cared for...

...by a demonic she-servant

and her brain-dead sidekick Lurch?

I mean, where did you even find those two, open-mic night at the mortuary?

Seriously, Roman, what's the deal with the kid?

Roman?

Are you going to talk to me about any of this

or should I just go fuck myself?

Did you hear anything I just said?

Yeah. You're a vegan.

You have reached the office of Dr. Johann Pryce.

After the beep tone, please speak clearly,

state your name, the time you called, and leave a detailed message.

I will return your call at my earliest convenience.

We need to talk now.

It's important. I don't want to get into it over the phone.

Call me back. It's important.

Roman Godfrey.

- The baby... - Whose is it?

I mean, well, are you the father?

Not that it's any of my business,

but with all the secrecy and the weird baby bunker...

I mean, what's up with that?

It's a very... It's a very complicated situation.

How complicated can it be?

Everyone comes from somewhere. You did. I did.

Where did the baby come from?

I mean, if you don't want to tell me, fine, but...

...since I seem to be the kid's major source of nourishment these days,

I thought I'd ask.

The father's not in the picture, and the mother's dead.

And you're taking care of this child because...

Look, Miranda, it's really not something you need to worry about, OK?

- Now, I really need to get going. - Well, I am fucking lactating.

- Who fucking lactates? - Mammals, mostly.

Who have been pregnant and have had offspring.

I have not been pregnant. I have not had offspring.

I... I do not even like children.

Children are sticky. They smell funny.

This town is giving me the creeps. I have got to get out of here.

I am sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for what you're going through.

There is something wrong here.

Very wrong! My Aunt Margo died at a young age...

This isn't fatal!

I promise. Maybe a little messy.

- And uncomfortable, and... - You're not gonna die!

Aunt Margo did, because she carried the death gene,

and I bet it means that I do, too.

If you're that worried, we'll get you to a doctor, OK?

One who specializes in spontaneous freak lactation?

Arnold Spivak. He's good. The family doctor.

Dr. Arnold's been in Hemlock Grove as long as anyone can remember.

Conway will drive you. Have the bill sent to me, OK?

- But what if... - Everything's gonna be OK, Miranda.

Deputy said you needed to talk.

Ready to explain why you're going around making death threats?

They weren't death threats.

Look, I'm gonna lay something on you, and you're not gonna believe me.

Hm! I can't wait.

There's been a series of accidents where people have died,

only they're not accidents.

They're made to look that way so they fly under police radar.

And you know this how?

I see what's gonna happen in dreams before it goes down.

And I have a pet unicorn I bought on the planet Zorknoin.

I told you weren't going to believe it!

And you knew that on account of you being psychic?

I had another dream, here last night.

There was this kid that was in trouble, he was underwater,

like on that Nirvana album cover.

And then there was a German shepherd!

Look, if you're not gonna do something about this,

I need to figure this out so I can do something about this,

but I can't do that in here!

Lucky for you, the woman you threatened scrammed out of town.

No one's around to press any charges.

I'm obliged to cut you loose.

I catch you stimulating your too-fertile imagination with weed

or whatever you're hopped up on...

...you'll be sitting down for a long time.

Let's have a look under the hood.

Oh, yes. No scarring.

Good soft palate.

Hm!

Do you pee with excitement every time you marvel at your genius with a scalpel?

I pride myself on my superior bladder control.

Someone's in a buoyant mood.

Roman called.

Judging from his tone, which could only be described as verging on the desperate,

I think we may be coming to an understanding.

This is good news.

That he's calling a third party instead of his mother?

Well, given the historically rotten relationship between you two,

I'll take the win.

- What's this? - Nicked myself.

It will heal.

Well, you're overdue for lab work anyway.

I'll update you on my meeting with Roman.

Guess what?

It's my parents'.

We can play a game.

Are you gonna play?

- Where the fuck have you been? - It's a long story.

We were supposed to be at the lady lawyer's 15 minutes ago.

- What? - She worked out a plea,

and we're supposed to go over it with her before we see Lynda.

- I need to make a call first. - Well, do it on the way.

- I'm out of juice. - Let's go!

I had another one. We need to put our heads together.

I'll call you later.

Let's fucking go.

New charges have been filed.

Your mother's alleged to have received stolen property:

a shipment of Christian Louboutin Palais Royal luxury shoes.

I wear the pair she gave me all the time.

She's being hit with 15 counts of grand larceny

and conspiracy to distribute stolen property.

- It's nonsense! - Anything involving the rich and famous

is like catnip to a prosecutor with political ambitions.

- How is this Lynda's problem? - It just is.

- How big of a problem? - Ten years.

You told us you were gonna make this go away!

I told you that I would give your mother the best defense possible,

- which I have, but these new charges... - Ten years is totally unacceptable!

- Peter! - Then what was the 20 grand for?

Mr. Rumancek, I am exploring every remedy available, but you have to understand...

I know a hustle when I see one. I'm a gypsy for fuck's sakes.

And this is a low-rent, rat-shit hustle!

Jesus.

You have a two o'clock with the company photographer.

They need a portrait for the annual report...

- Cancel. - The chamber of commerce, they want...

Not interested. Has Pryce called?

No. Should I try him?

She's come quite a long way since you saw her last.

But you probably don't remember.

Say hello to Prycilla, the first human being ever to be created

in an extra-uterine environment.

But enough about me, let me introduce you to another of my creations,

one that will set you free.

Once and for all.

The work product from a wide spectrum of genetic experiments

we've been conducting, repurposed here as a nutrient concentrate

to satiate the upir appetite.

Takes some getting used to, I know, but for your kind,

this is on a par with the development of agriculture 8,000 years ago.

A reliable supply of sustenance

that turned the hunter-gatherer into civilized man.

No more foraging in the night to ward off starvation.

No more preying on helpless victims, taking innocent life.

You've come home, Roman, and you have me to thank.

Drink.

Right now, you feel like Jesus's son.

No more, Roman, it's too soon!

Your metabolism needs to adjust.

All right, another deep breath.

Good.

Yeah, the wife and I, we took a trip to Norway once,

and we were, you know, we're tooling around the fjords

in this rust bucket rental, and, uh, you know, the tranny goes out.

Neither of us drive stick, which I'm sure was a contributing factor,

but there we are, you know, marooned in Trondheim, Norway.

Look at my nose.

Now, neither of us speaks Norwegian...

...which is not a crime by the way.

Here, you can lean back.

But the Norwegians... Oh, my Lord...

...took it as this personal affront.

That you didn't speak Norwegian?

Oh, don't let the reindeer sweaters fool ya.

They are just a loathsome bunch, the Norwegians.

Never ever go there.

All right. Here we go! Bottom line.

All right, young lady. You are a perfectly healthy 21-year-old female

unremarkable for any pathology or illness, all right?

I'm not saying you're not remarkable. OK?

It's just doctor speak for "you ain't sick." OK?

Thank you, Pearl.

Hey, I bet you the guy who ran you off the road's a New Yorker.

They tend to drive through here like a bat out of hell.

So how come I'm lactating for no known reason?

No known reason. Lactation is a physiological response

to a whole complex of stimuli. There's emotional, there's hormonal,

there's environmental, there's, uh...

you know, etcetera, etcetera. My guess?

It probably has to do with this infant you've been hanging around.

Without ever being pregnant?

Yeah. It's not common, but it's not unheard of. It's called pseudocyesis.

The body acts like it's pregnant when it's not.

It's surprising, sure.

It's, uh, you know, it's inconvenient, sure, but...

- Yeah. - No cause for alarm.