The last thing anyone wants to do is question the commitment of a three-time Emmy winner to the work that earned him the triple gold, but sometimes circumstances make it impossible not to shine the blinding light of Truth into the eyes of the ungrateful. Last night — right smack in the D-word middle of production of the future multiple-Oscar-winning Entourage movie, we must note — Jeremy Piven appeared on Jimmy Kimmel Live to promote his OTHER current project, some hoity-toity period drama about a famous British grocery or something, Mr. Selfie. But that is not the sin we have gathered here to punish; Piven did later grudgingly plug the Entourage movie, because he knows on which side his bread is buttered, even if he would like to pretend he prefers a nice bitter orange marmalade.

No, we are here because of a shocking betrayal. We are here because #entourageboysshare, and they do not, under any circumstances, talk about their overseas mistress while their true loves are curled up together on the couch in a trailer, sharing a bowl of popcorn as they wait for a public declaration of devotion:

“It’s so great to have people scream ‘Harry’ instead of ‘Ari’ … I love this show, I’m ridiculously proud of it, I love being over there, it’s the best cast I’ve ever worked with in my life.”

Kimmel immediately seized upon the slip: “You like them better than the Entourage guys.” Piven tried to backtrack, but the damage was done; he had chosen ascot over Rolex, a dandy shopkeep over a coked-up superagent, a faraway ensemble over the bros at home.

Back in that trailer, Vinnie Chase’s improbably huge eyes quivered with the beginnings of tears. Those tears would not fall, however, because Drama quickly wiped them away with a resolute We never liked that guy anyway. A bereft Turtle fired his sidekick coach by text message. And E — stalwart E, constant E — just sat there, quietly simmering, because he always knew this day would come, knew that betrayal coursed through Ari’s veins, knew that helping a scorpion across the river always results in a fatal sting, thanks for the ride, bitches.

It’s impossible to know how this affected the mood on set today, once Piven returned. One hopes the Edible Arrangements have already been sent, the apology BBMs typed, the way paved for a five-way hug-it-out sesh.

But if not, well, maybe Billy Walsh complements his Medellin full-backer from with a Fuck Ari full-fronter.

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Maybe Saget gives him the brush-off, and Russell Wilson (hey, it’s Super Bowl champion Russell Wilson!) throws a cold shoulder.

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And maybe Vince — the brightest star in the constellation, never forget that — pulls Ari close and whispers in his ear, That really hurt, withdrawing just in time for a single tear to finally fall upon his betrayer’s Prada wingtip.

Maybe they will never hug it out.

Maybe the whole thing falls apart around them.

But maybe, just maybe, the tension plays out onscreen. The text becomes richer, the performances deeper.

Maybe there will be Oscars for everybody.

Because, in the end, #entourageboysshare. Always.