But we're going to duck out of that conversation because: MARIE! How you doin', lady? She's at what appears to be an open house, and considering that's the episode title -- and also considering we're getting an odd close-up of a little ceramic figurine of a Hummel-type child riding a pig -- we should probably be paying attention to what goes on here. Which we would anyway, because: MARIE! She's being super sketchy, though. After a married couple take off, Marie asks the realtor -- looking like Wilford Brimley meets the rich Texan oil man from The Simpsons -- to top off her glass of wine. As she inquires about the house, and you're wondering whether she's considering moving, leaving Hank or getting into the real estate business, she also gives a fake name to Colonel Oatmeal (first name that popped into my head, let's just go with it) and claims to be divorced with a four-year-old child. So is she just being a tourist? Escaping her awful home life with Hank for an afternoon? She gets really into talking about home-schooling her gifted phantom child. You guys, we need to get a better life for Marie. I will take up a collection, if need be.
Back home, Hank nervously turns off the porno movie he's watching (hoping to stimulate his half-dead genitalia?) when Marie returns home. He's characteristically gruff and awful to her, lambasting her for buying him Fritos instead of Cheetos. I can barely remember how much I grew to like Hank last season, because he has squandered all of it now. Why don't you bid on some Cheetos on eBay, HANK? He even throws her super-nice impulse buy of a fantasy-football magazine back in her face. (I mean, yes, he's correct on the merits: fantasy magazines are useless, instantly-dated fodder for weak players who don't know how to use the Internet properly. Not to mention Cheetos' inherent superiority to Fritos. But still: give the woman points for effort, you terrible, crippled bastard of a person!) Marie finally stomps off, which is what Hank wanted in the first place. When she goes, we see she's left that little pig-boy figurine on the nightstand. Oh, Marie. Not this again.
After the break, Walt and Jesse are finishing up another day in the salt mines and changing back into their civilian clothes. (Giving us another opportunity to gaze upon the iconic sight of Walter White in his tighty-whities. Get ready to put those under glass, Museum of Television and Radio!) Walt tries to share his outrage about the security camera to Jesse, but Jesse's not really feeling any strong emotions these days, at least not outwardly. He says they always figured Gus had the lab bugged -- now they know he does. He then asks Walt if he'd like to "do something." You know, like go-karts or something. Walt, of course, has no idea how to respond to this, because even after everything they've been through, he and Jesse don't have a normal human relationship. But seriously: he's asking you out on a date, you fool! When Jesse Pinkman comes calling, my young punk friend, you go. On the real, though, it breaks your heart to watch Jesse -- his shoulders twitching like crazy -- basically ask Walter to help him spend a night away from his house and his friends and his meth, and for Walter to turn him down. Not because he doesn't see it. He asks Jesse if he's doing okay, because it's so very clear he's not. But he doesn't have the first clue how to help him, particularly since Walter's the one who asked Jesse to do the thing that's got him so messed up. And if he can't help, he's rather not be around it, it seems. Officially, he has "kind of a meeting" to get to. It rolls right off Jesse's shaking shoulders, who transitions back to nihilism so quickly it'd snap your neck. Walt then half-heartedly asks Jesse if there's anything they need to talk about. Jesse returns: "How's your eye? Is there anything we need to talk about?" So: good! Nobody's talking to anybody, and we'll continue down our paths to self-destruction, then! "For what it's worth," Jesse adds. "Getting the shit kicked out of you? You don't get used to it, but ... you kind of get used to it." ...Okay, now we're taking up a collection for Jesse too. (As if we weren't already.)