Back at the Onyx club, Purnsley's closing up -- from his attire, he looks like he was tending bar. He heads out into the front of house, when suddenly there's someone behind him. He turns and he's already got his switchblade ready to carve himself up some Dr. Valentin Narcisse, who calmly wonders what good "another dead Negro" would do either of them. Purnsley says it would make him feel "a mite better." He thinks Narcisse is here to settle the Dickie Pastor score, but relaxes when Narcisse tells him that has been settled: "I'm here on new business," he says, pulling off an upturned chair from the nearby table. Narcisse isn't surprised Chalky isn't there right now, since he's got Purnsley to do his "slave labor." Then Narcisse flat-out lies and says Chalky offered to give Purnsley up. Purnsley growls that Chalky White ain't never been his friend. Purnsley's all "no shit" and pulls down another chair for Purnsley to sit on. Still wary -- but at least finally putting the switchblade away -- Purnsley sits down. "Do you know what this is?" Narcisse says, sliding a white packet across the table. Is it an offered salary written down? No, Purnsley knows it's heroin. "It is freedom. Power. Control over men who are lesser than you," says Narcisse. You know, like Chalky! Purnsley wants to know where Narcisse is going with this, and Narcisse smoothly says as far as Purnsley would like Narcisse to take him: "But we shall go there together."
Looks like McCoy has spent all goddamn night drinking and cleaving coconuts in two -- or whatever those are. Some of them look green? Look, I don't know. I live in Canada. And then suddenly Tucker is hammering on the door, yelling, "McCoy! Let's settle this!" McCoy wipes his face and goes to the door. "I didn't hear you," says McCoy, ludicrously. Tucker's amazed that McCoy's in here chopping coconuts at 4 AM, and McCoy's all "doctor's orders" and then starts to make excuses about the Nucky thing. Tucker's in no mood, and grabs McCoy by the throat, pushing him back into the room and closing the door behind him.
Out at the ol' Harrow place, Richard sits on the front porch, his hand bandaged, which he tells Hubert -- leaning against a shiny pickup truck from his gravel company -- he injured cleaning out the barn. Talk soon turns a little more personal, with Hubert obliquely declaring his marital intentions, what with Emma having a baby to raise and no one to do it and in a place not fit to do it in. "She thinks the world of you, but you're only visiting," says Hubert. Sure. Plus, even in the '20s, I bet it was illegal for siblings to marry.