Tim Riggins is looking down at the floor; he can hear the words, but can't quite comprehend them. Or maybe he doesn't want to. "She's coming home, and I don't want there to be any misunderstandings here, son, you get me?" Buddy Garrity's voice is harsh. Threatening. There's something else in Buddy's voice that Tim can barely detect. A note of . . . fear, maybe?
Tim nods. He doesn't look up as he shifts in his chair. His eyes fixate on a rough spot on the floor of Buddy's bar - Buddy's pride and joy, this place.
"Tim - I need you to really hear me on this, son. Do we understand each other?"
Tim finally looks up, meeting Buddy's eye. "Yes sir," he says slowly. "Lyla is coming home. You want me to stay away from her."
"Now, Tim," Buddy forces a smile, "I didn't - I didn't mean to suggest any such thing. All's I'm saying is that she's - it's been four years, Tim - she's a college graduate now, you know? I'm so proud of her," his voice trails off. Tim looks down at the floor again. It's left unsaid that Tim is decidedly not a college graduate.
"Lyla's changed, Tim," Buddy continues. "She's a woman now. She's moving to Austin in the fall. Got a real great job there. And she has a boyfriend. They're serious, Tim; real serious. I just want you to understand that."
"I do, sir," Tim nods. He's rises. "Do you need anything else from me tonight, Mr. Garrity?"
"No," Buddy sighs, as he gets up from his chair, too. "I just - I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us, Tim," he pauses. "About Lyla. I just want everything to be clear here. Real clear."
"Things are clear, Mr. Garrity," Tim responds flatly. "Real clear."