Back in Atlantic City at the poker game, Rothstein is aggressively raising and then taunting Nucky for not doing the same. "Surely things aren't that bad," he says. There's a little coded talk between the two of them regarding Nucky's appetite for risk in life and in the game -- and some other degenerate gambler would like the pace to be picked up a little, and he also heckles Rothstein, prompting Meyer Lansky to suggest he keep his observations to himself. Arnold's all, "It's OK, Meyer," essentially, which makes the heckler go on a little fake-Yiddish run and wink at Nucky. And then Nucky makes a big raise. "And now you've got my attention," says Rothstein.
Back in Harlem, Dunn Purnsley's waiting for Narcisse outside the headquarters, and asks for some of his time. Narcisse sends his bodyguards ahead "to the salon" and gives Purnsley until 127th Street. Purnsley wisely opens with an apology, which in turn earns a little praise from Narcisse for his industriousness. And then it's time to run down Chalky a little bit: "His time is past, his place uncertain," says Narcisse. Chalky's on the rise, if anything, and Dunn points out that Chalky has the club and the whole North Side, which Narcisse dismisses as a "plantation run by Nordics. They throw you scraps; enough to keep you from starving, but not enough to make your belly full." He's preaching to Purnsley's choir on that score; that's why Dunn's here, after all. Dunn wants to know what he needs -- perhaps the right man running things down there? What the negro needs, Narcisse explains, is to pay no more tribute to a Nordic like Nucky Thompson than one would a bottlefly. He talks about how the downfall of the Libyan is what they used to call a "duppy" in the islands: a vampire, one who sucks the blood from his own people. Interesting position from a guy who has Purnsley distributing heroin. But I suppose that's to weed out the weak. At any rate, this duppy, says Narcisse, now that they've arrived at the salon is what will happen "unless there are Libyans prepared to instruct him in the uplift of the race." Purnsley takes that as his cue to kick the crap out of the gadabout hanging out on the step harassing people arriving at the party.
Meanwhile, Van Alden's still accompanying the Capone brothers on their various excursions, and they're particularly impressed by his aquavit distribution, mainly because he's skimming from "that Irish fuck." So they tell him if he keeps busting heads for them during the election, he can have the Cicero aquavit action as well. You can imagine how comfortable Van Alden is with going behind O'Banion's back like this. "Cicero is where the action is going to be. Pick a winner, Mueller," says Frank. Then they happen to spot one of O'Banion's speakeasies, with the bread truck out front that he uses for liquor deliveries. "It may just be a bread truck," offers Van Alden, futilely, since Al is all, "I may be hungry."