Back at the more familiar setting of Carlito's, Fi advises Michael to go ahead and drop the hammer on Bly. But Michael points out that Bly can link him to Barry, who has broken a lot of laws, which could screw up Michael's own life. If he ever gets it back, that is. I guess Michael is fine breaking as many laws as he can think of in his freelance life, as long as nobody actually knows about it.

When they return to Michael's loft, the door is crisscrossed with biohazard tape. As they duck inside, Michael VOs that government agents have to follow the law, "But they still have plenty of options to hit you below the belt. Sometimes a bullet to the head is better than a slow death drowning in red tape." He and Fi enter the loft to find it crawling with technicians in white coats, latex gloves, and dust masks, one of whom has just finished cutting open the back cushion on Michael's vintage green naugahyde chair. Some poor nauga gave its life in vain. A conspicuously unmasked Bly appears and announces that the Board of Health has declared the loft unfit for human habitation. "And here I thought it was just a dump." Bly also greets Fi, saying, "You're wearing more clothes than usual." Michael grabs Fi to keep her from making a run at Bly, pleasantly says he was on the fence about the destroyed chair, and thanks Bly for helping him make up his mind. "I hope you're on the fence about everything you own," Bly says jovially, "because toxic mold could be anywhere." With that, he smashes a beer bottle on the floor. Nice try, Bly. Eighty-six some of Michael's yogurt if you really want to get under his skin. Michael acts like he's not bothered by any of this, and starts to get some clothes, but of course Bly's taken care of packing for him: an overnight bag full of pink clothes. That diabolical Bly has thought of everything! "For a tough guy, you sure dress like an Easter egg," he remarks.