Tabor Heights. Gyp Rosetti steps out of the boarding house where he and his flunky have been staying the past two nights and heads two doors down to the gas station, where a sign says "Last Stop for Gasoline in New Jersey." He approaches the gas station attendant -- 22 years old, max -- and basically skulks behind him until he gets the kid's attention. He pulls out a map and proceeds to deliver the most graceless bit of exposition delivery I've seen on a purportedly high-end TV show in some time. He basically points to the audience and says, "Hey dummies: we're here, in Tabor Heights, in northern New Jersey, right in between Atlantic City, to the south, and New York City, to the north. He then tries to figure out the thing on the map where one inch equals ten miles, and the attendant is like, "Yeah, that's the scale," and Rosetti doesn't get the term "scale," just like he didn't get "3-in-1" from last week. I guess this is character building? He's the guy who doesn't know things and who gets mad when people explain them to him? This feels like an improv character.

Anyway, he manages to restrain himself from beating the kid to death, which is a good thing, because the kid has some exposition of his own to give: "Until they finish that highway, we're the last gas to Staten Island." Rosetti spots a fish truck and asks the kid what's in the truck. The kid's like, "...Fish?" Rosetti says it SAYS fish on the truck, but how would they know it's not smuggling anything? Who would be the guy who would know? The kid's like, "...The Sheriff? Hey, how's about stop talking to me now?" I appreciate that Rosetti got this crucial piece of inside information that let him know that the sheriff is the guy in charge of law enforcement. Totally made all that weirdness worthwhile. The kid tries to go off and pump gas, but Rosetti grabs him by the arm and menacingly asks where a good place to eat would be. This fucker EXHAUSTS me, and it's only episode two.

Margaret's having afternoon tea with her friend Cornelia -- the one who got an eyeful of the sex-beams emanating from Sleater to Margaret at the New Year's party. She doesn't seem like a barrel of laughs of anything, but it's nice that Margaret has graduated from hanging out with the mistresses to hanging out with the proper wives. Margaret's telling Cornelia about the miscarriage she witnessed, how horrible it all was, and that she was told it was caused by an infection from drinking unpasteurized milk. And as much as I'd like for Margaret to delve into the story of Louis Pasteur and his wife, in the kitchen, killing cockroaches with a boot on each hand (and can I just say how annoying it is that that clip is sped up like it is; that is NOT a solution to increased ad demands on TV reruns, America!), they're interrupted by Phillip, who announces that "the Irish fellow" is here. Margaret continues to be slightly annoyed by Phillip, which I love, and she snips that visitors are to be announced by name, though Phillip doesn't consider Sleater a "visitor," actually. Cornelia bolts to the ladies' room, lest she be knocked down by further lust-rays. Sleater's here to give Margaret money for the week's expenses, since he apparently refuses to open up a household account at the bank. She asks him to get a message to Nucky about that St. Gregory award the diocese wants to give them for their generosity; he can't just not go, and it'll be awkward for her to have to make up an excuse. Sleater says he'll make sure Nucky hears about it. He looks back into the house and sees Emily playing with her nanny; he remarks that she seems to be quite well. "Things are never as bad as the worst," Margaret says, and Sleater smiles. "Your mam said that too, did she?" Margaret can't deal with him being charming right now, and she has a meeting at the hospital anyway. He offers to drive her, but she says Cornelia is taking her. Sleater leaves, then. Hahaha, "Offers to drive her." I'll bet he did.