Oh dear, time for The Sad Home Life of Gyp Rosetti. Just like how you knew a bully like Nelson Muntz must have a nightmare of a home life to explain his behavior, it's time to see what domestic terrors have turned ol' Gyp into a hair-trigger, murdering, autoerotic-asphyxiator. Right now, he's getting dressed in his bedroom, silently, while someone out in the apartment hollers at him to hurry up as dinner is ready. Gyp's also being briefed by an underling, who is explaining why this week's take is low and thus confirming what we all suspected would be the fallout of the Tabor Heights massacre: he's lost territory, he's lost manpower, and more importantly, he's lost the ability to fight back, at least for the moment. Underling also brings up the subject of Joe Masseria, who will almost certainly not be very understanding of the circumstances surrounding their shortfall. What's he planning on telling him?
Before Gyp can answer (or not answer, most likely) this question, the pounding on his door becomes excessive and Gyp angrily opens the door to find his ... I guess wife? She's this Brunhilde of a woman -- squat, round-faced, bug-eyed, terrible hausfrau wig, only missing a giant mole on her face, really. She is a harridan of the first order, and despite the fact that Gyp reacts to a soft breeze like it's a slap in the face, he is the picture of stoicism in the face of this cartoonish harping. Out at the dinner table, there are three or four children, all identical to the wife, so the story we're being told here is that Gyp Rosetti is such a miserable psychopath because he's surrounded all say by loud, homely women. I think his mother is there too, or I guess his mother-in-law? That would fit the stereotype even better. They sit down to a dinner of what looks like a boiled lamb's head (good eatin'!), but even then, Mrs. Rosetti slaps Gyp's hand away so he'll say grace first. He does, then proceeds to exercise what is seemingly his one privilege as head of household: he gets to eat the eyeball! Okay, next scene.
At the Maison Derriere, Gillian feeds Roger his Easter dinner and asks him about his life. He talks about moving from town to town, taking odd jobs here and there. Picking oranges. Mining for silver in Mexico. She says his adventurousness makes her feel timid by comparison. He asks what's keeping her here, and she says memories, mostly, and dreams. He suggests putting this "mausoleum" up for sale and they take the profits on the road with them for a fine old time. She thought he came here for work. "Who wants to do that if you don't have to?" he asks. Ah, a silver miner AND a gold digger. Gillian playfully wonders if he's trying to take advantage of a lonely widow. In response, he instructs her to hike up her dress and spread her legs, and he walks around the side of the table, unbuttons his pants, and starts doing her right on the tabletop. No nudity. Sorry.