Weeds

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A.K.A. The Plant

Shooting range. Nancy throatily says that she wants to try the Glock next, but Peter tells her that'll have to be next time. Nancy whines that they're done already, and Peter reminds her that he has to drive out to Pacific Beach in the morning for his undercover assignment, and that it takes him forever to sterilize his piercing nails. She flirtily asks whether he likes going undercover. "With you I do," says Peter. Nancy presses that it must be exciting, and Peter agrees that it is, until a meth freak with a nailgun shoots you in the ass. This kind of talk gets Nancy all hot, and she leans in for a kiss. Peter takes off, and when the clerk comes back, Nancy asks to try "the shiny one, with the pretty pearly grip." The clerk tells her they're closing in ten minutes: "You don't have to go home, but you can't shoot here." Yeah, Shane's the one who's doing all the shooting at her house -- hi-yo! The clerk hands back the driver's license to "Ms. LaPlante." "Lacy," she corrects. "My mother is Ms. LaPlante."

Megan's. Apparently Silas has unusually good swimmers, because as they lie together on her bed, a single tear rolls down her cheek.

Nancy's next stop is the grow house. Conrad asks what she's doing back there, and she asks rhetorically how often you get to see a grow house being built. As we can hear tools working in the background, Conrad makes her cover her eyes, and sets the scene as he leads her in, telling her to picture a bright room full of beautiful plants: "We're growing money!" Nancy says that if bullshit makes the grass grow, they must be. Conrad says it isn't bullshit, and uncovers her eyes to show off the pots neatly lined up on the floor, and the lamps about to be raised up into place. Nancy marvels that they work fast, and Conrad tells her they're meth addicts. Nancy checks that none of them is using a nailgun (heh), and then Victor comes over. Nancy introduces herself, and Victor tells her, "I like your eyeballs." Nancy thanks him: "They're real, you know." Heh. As Conrad watches this beautiful friendship being born, another knock comes at the door. No one can guess who this might be, because it's the middle of the night. Conrad closes the door on the grow room.

Conrad opens the front door to find Keshisyan, a menacing bald guy with a pink bakery box. Conrad is not too friendly, and rightly so, as Keshisyan says that it's baklava, to say hello, and goodbye. Conrad guesses that Keshisyan doesn't like black people, but apparently that's not so -- he loves the music, and the fried foods. But he knows what they're doing in there, and he's not having it. All day, he watched trucks pulling up to the house. He figured he'd see a ping pong table being unloaded, or a recliner and a flat-screen TV. Instead, they were all boxes -- Victor's boxes. Conrad's face closes as Keshisyan says he knows what they're doing in there, and they need to get out, because the next time Keshisyan comes by, he won't be holding pastries, and neither will his brothers and cousins. He tells Conrad to let Victor know Keshisyan says hello. He also recommends the baklava with walnuts. I don't actually think Conrad's all that hungry right now.

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