Even in an Irish morgue, Nucky can't escape the speculation over the "fight of the century". Nucky thinks title holder Dempsey's a shoo-in because of his size. An Irishman thinks Carpentier is a chance because "he's a puncher" and knocked out Britain's best. Nucky dismisses Britain's best as a bum. It's a pretty apt metaphor for Nucky's ongoing battle. He has the stature and the clout, but Jimmy is scrappy and has proven himself in other arenas -- but were they competition enough to prove his chances against the defending champ? Intertextuality, y'all...

Owen escorts McGarrigle down the stairs. The IRA honcho gives Nucky his condolences for the recent misfortune to befall the Thompson clan. He wonders why he's been brought to this place. Nucky and Owen open the casket to reveal not a corpse, but a passel of Tommy guns. He's taken aback at the sight, but can't help noting that the amount Nucky is presenting (a dozen) won't make that much of a difference in his battle against the English. Nucky says there are 3,000 in Atlantic City, and he's prepared to barter them for Irish whiskey. McGarrigle is offended by the American coarseness of the exchange, which is lost on Nucky, who's all, "My checkbook was good enough for you a couple of weeks ago..." He says he'll discuss it with his leadership and effectively shuts Nucky out of the process entirely. Nucky asks Owen, "What the fuck was that all about?" Owen dismisses McGarrigle as "a flinty old geezer," but he's losing points by the minute.