Later that night, while walking along at some marina, Michael explains the denouement to Jimmy: "It's going to be hard for them to explain why they have guns linked to a double homicide. Still, it's probably best to make sure no one ever knows you're alive." Jimmy asks about his family, and Michael explains the plan: a friend of Sam's is going to ferry Jimmy to Haiti ("the Coast Guard doesn't pay much attention to boats going to Haiti") so he can catch a flight to Argentina to meet his family. Michael's pretty sure they'll be there, since Carla's going to need Michael for other stuff and doesn't want to piss him off. Even though she can kill him if he doesn't do what she wants. But I guess it's all about proportional responses. Good enough for Jimmy, who offers Michael his car on the spot. "It's a Saab," Jimmy product-places. "Convertible." Michael accepts, and Jimmy hands over the keys. "I gotta leave the country and you're stuck working for them," Jimmy sums up. "I don't know who has it better." Michael says Jimmy does. Because it's all about Michael.
Next day, Michael and Fi are using a palmtop to comb through the files he and Jimmy stole as he VOs that "too little information is obviously a problem. But too much can be just as bad." Which is more didactic way of saying that they have no way of knowing why Carla and her people wanted this crap in the first place. Maybe they'd have better luck if they were using a computer whose screen was bigger than in index card, but with 500 files' worth of private paramilitary operations under the gore-encrusted belt of Security Associates, all Michael can say is that it's a start. Fi looks at him significantly, and he realizes that it's time to talk. She says she lost him the other day and even though he came back, he still made a choice, and it wasn't her. "What are you saying, Fi?" he asks. She says she'll always care about him, and they'll still help each other, but they can't be together. "I know. I said that for a long time," Michael says as gently as he can. As she quietly leaves, Michael VOs, "When you work as a spy, it's easy to think of people as assets. Resources to accomplish a goal. Because you don't' have a personal relationship with an asset. You don't care about an asset. You don't miss the scent of an asset when she leaves the room." I think at some point he stopped talking about an asset and started talking about an ass.
Pretend for a minute that you don't recognize the tall blonde in the green dress doing a crossword at the bar, okay? Sam certainly doesn't as he comes to pick up a couple of drinks and offers her a tip: "I think four across is 'beets.'" I've heard worse pickup lines, but I can't think of any right now. He adds that he's right over at a nearby table if she needs any more help, and she actually looks sad as she says she was just leaving. "Next time?" she smiles. Returning to the table where Michael is waiting, Sam says it's a good thing he's patching things up with Veronica, because he just met a "real firecracker." As said firecracker heads outside and gets into a cab, tipping Sam and Michael a flirty wave, Michael shows Sam a cell phone photo of Jimmy and his family, reunited. That phone rings, and it's Carla, congratulating everyone involved on how well things worked out. "We want to make this arrangement work," she says. "Or you'll kill me," Michael guesses. "See, now you're catching on," she agrees. Nice to see them working the bugs out. Although if she doesn't start paying him, Michael's going to have to stop going to sidewalk cafĂ©s like this all the time. Michael reminds her of her promise to meet with him, and she says they just did. "Tell Sam thanks for the help with the crossword," she clarifies. Michael drops the phone with a basic-cable-friendly "Oh, sh---" and runs out to the sidewalk, but the cab Carla hopped is gone. He goes back inside to check out the crossword she left behind on the bar. It looks finished, and in the margin above, she left him a note in her dude handwriting: "Enjoy the puzzle. I'll see you soon." Not a "beets" in sight, by the way.