The next day, at the Federal Bureau of Postage Stamps, Agent Sebso is greeted by an incensed Agent Van Alden (he slaps the cruller from his hand, the monster!). Van Alden just got a call from Western Union saying that the Darmodys called to complain about an undelivered telegram -- where is this telegram and why wasn't Van Alden told! Slobber! Bugged eyes! Yeah, so, here's the thing: Michael Shannon walks a thin tightrope when it comes to my enjoyment of him. He ain't never going to be subtle, but I appreciate that manic intensity when he's living within a role (Bug; The Runaways); it when he starts to play the performance rather than the character (Revolutionary Road) that he really detracts from me enjoying whatever movie he's slobbering in. This week, he's really setting up camp in that latter category. Sebso apologizes and at first plays like he forgot he even had the telegram, but when Val Alden continues to yell, Sebso snaps back that Supervisor Elliott has been saying that Van Alden is too focused on the Thompson/Darmody/Schroeder angles of their present assignment. He was trying to save Van Alden from himself, essentially. "You kill a snake by cutting off the head," Van Alden explains. "Darmody gives him up, this entire city -- this Sodom -- will be cleansed all at once." Oh, here we go with more of your Sodom-bashing.
At the Darmody shack, Jimmy is telling stories of Chicago and the vast land of opportunity those roads west lead to. Angela grouses that it's big talk to match their meager reality, but Jimmy thinks their futures are looking bright. Starting with this new position he's taken with Nucky. "We're out of this dump in no time flat," he promises. But where shall they move to in Atlantic City? "Marvin Gardens. Those beach houses on Ventnor." I'd suggest finding a nice house on Park Place, but the luxury tax is so high. Jimmy gets a phone call from his Ma, then sits down with Tommy for a breakfast of eggs (or as Tommy enthuses, "Mush!"). Angela rather noticeably doesn't sit to eat with them, and Jimmy certainly feels the cold shoulder. Which is why this is the perfect time for him to suggest that they have another baby. Tommy certainly thinks it's a great idea. And if TV has taught me anything, it's that nothing saves a marriage faster than another baby!
Across town, Gillian and Lucky lie naked in bed. She's certainly willing to sex him up still, but when she turns away from him, her face shows it's taken an emotional toll. She offers to get him some coffee, but -- like some nightmare mirror-version of those old Folger's ads -- she comes back to the bedroom with her just-returned son in tow. Jimmy tosses a cup of hot coffee onto Lucky, who reaches for his gun, but Gillian's got that taken care of. He calls her a "fucking twat," which leads Jimmy to draw his own gun. This gets Lucky to apologize. Gillian explains that she and her son are rather close. ...Yeah, about that Bonnie & Clyde vibe I'm getting right now. Whatever, no time to think of that now. Jimmy references their mutual acquaintance, Capone, and says Al would like nothing better than to have Jimmy blow Lucky's brains in. Lucky, more calmly than I could muster, says he'd consider it a kindness if Jimmy didn't. Jimmy's not going to do it here, of course. They're gonna take a ride, "someplace they won't find you." Gillian looks away from Lucky, the slightest hint of regret in her eyes. Not enough to change the course of events here, of course.