As usual, there's no accounting for taste. Janet still has no clue what Susan sees in Lancelot. He doesn't seem like a dick -- and she has no fear that Susan would put up with him if he turned out to be one -- he just has all the appeal of a bowl of plain pasta with no sauce or cheese or anything. "Would Lancelot let you do that?" she asks, suddenly curious. They've really never talked directly about Susan and Lancelot's deal. Which is fine. But she's, what, three drinks in? Things are getting knocked loose.