Back at the White house, which at this point is just one ever-expanding shadow, Walt checks his watch and then starts the countdown. Now, come on, WALT having a watch isn't going to help matters, you crooks. Some plan this is. ...Actually, okay, it's a pretty impressive plan. We see it carried out via one of the more memorable montages on this show that has enjoyed its fair share of montages. It's set to characteristically uncharacteristic music ("Pick Yourself Up" by Nat King Cole), as we take a tour through the New Mexico prison system and watch a succession of stoolies get taken care of. It's prison, and there aren't a lot of options, so it's not like there's a ton of diversity in the kills. One happens in the showers, one by the pay phones. Most meet their end via a furious series of stabbings with tiny little shivs; those are pretty brutal to watch but also kind of hypnotic in their swift repetitions. The centerpiece act of violence is reserved for poor Dennis, who's in solitary after his plea meeting; he gets doused with lighter fluid or alcohol or whatever and then set ablaze inside his cell. [Note: There's an awesome "making of" video here.]
All the while, Walt is pacing in front of his bay window, the light from outside casting a severe shadow; it's an image lifted wholesale from Godfather II, but I guess steal from the best. The montage ends with Hank getting interrupted during a photo op with a school cheerleading team with the news; he and Gomez go running off in a tizzy. Within two minutes, Walt gets the call: "It's done."
After the break, Walt plays with baby Holly in the Purple Palace (I am COVETING that purple shag carpet) as the news broadcast talks about "what appears to be a carefully coordinated sequence of attacks" in prison. Marie greets Hank, who returns home QUITE pissed, as you might imagine. Walt tries to stay relatively quiet as Hank fixes them each a bourbon on the rocks, then limps off to his chair. Walt joins him, the architect of his bad mood. After sitting in silence for a moment, Hank begins a rambly story about having a summer job during college, marking trees in the woods for cutting down. He makes it sound dull and repetitive, if you can imagine that. Walt, who I think is being intentionally a dick, albeit reeeally subtly, because he resents having to feel like the bad guy here, says it "sounds nice, being in the woods all day." Hank's been thinking about that job a lot -- maybe he should've enjoyed it more. "Tagging trees is a lot better than chasing monsters," he says. "Monsters," of course, is a dig at Walt, though Hank doesn't know it. So with a barely perceptible smirk, Walt remarks, "I used to love going camping as a kid." He finishes his drink.