So were you wondering where Walt was hiding all that methylamine? Wonder no longer, as we head to the car wash, where Skyler is anxiously waiting for the next fresh batch of Hell to arrive on her doorstep. The place is closed for the day, so Walt comes knocking at the back door. Jesse backs up the truck to where the methylamine tanker sits in the car wash hold. Jesse's all, "Hey, Mrs. White." She shakes her head. This is still heartbreaking, that Skyler only views Jesse as a symptom of Walt's criminal world. No idea that he's the purest soul on the planet. He gets out of the truck and while Walt closes the back gates of the car wash, he nods at the logo on the truck. "Vamonos," he reads, to Skyler, like a kid would to a parent. She just fixes him with a look and says, "I wish." She asks Walt if what's in the tank is what she thinks it is, if he's hiding it from the police ... or from someone worse. He just repeatedly stonewalls her, telling her not to worry about it. All she really wants to know -- all she ever wants to know these days -- is if she should expect armed men to show up any time soon to murder her or her kids, but Walt again tells her to wait in the office. Jesse watches this whispered conversation with concern, and as Skyler walks nervously down the garage to the offices, she looks back and they kind of stare at each other. There's a connection to be made there, I know there is. I'm not sure what they could even do to help one another -- much less Walt -- but I desperately want Jesse and Skyler to compare notes.

Elsewhere, remember that attorney who smuggled Mike into the prison so he could talk down one of his nine chatty jailbirds? His name is Dan Wachsberger, and he's on a trip to the bank, making small talk with Dorothy at the desk and bringing her some "bacon banana cookies" that sound both terrifying and delicious at the same time. She leads him and his wheelie suitcase down to the safety deposit box room. Inside, camera keeps pushing him out of frame, and I keep expecting this poor lady to get shot or something. It's a masterful editing job. She opens the usual boxes for him -- she almost knows them from memory now -- but he says he'll be using one more this week. Once she's gone (miraculously having not been shot), he gets to work: opening the boxes, unloading the contents of the suitcase -- stacks and stacks of cash -- into them, all while brassy "Catch Me If You Can" music plays. Oh look! It's the welcome return of the patented Breaking Bad POV shot! This time, we get the view from Dan's wrist. Valuable! Anyway, the last box, the extra one, is about ten times the size of the other ones, and Dan has filled it to the brim, topping it off with an envelope that reads, "To Kaylee on her 18th birthday."