The next thing we know, Michael's back in his loft doing a little drafting as he explains in VO that you need to get that mental floor plan down on paper as quick as you can while it's still fresh in your mind. And then you need to combine that with what you know about the security devices in the room, and use that to figure out where the holes are. I notice that Michael took the time to change his clothes before breaking out his triangle and protractor, mind you. And the task is being made even more difficult by the fact that while he's trying to accomplish it, Sam is in the room teaching Jimmy that card game he mentioned earlier, spouting off distracting strings of numbers until Michael kicks them out. But then Fi comes in next, wanting to talk. Michael blows her off for now, but he has an assignment for her: she needs to get them into the private DNA lab in the building that's one floor above Security Associates. He specifies, "An hour, at night, alone. And we're going to be making a lot of noise." "You have a high estimation of my skills, Michael," Fi says. He sucks up, "You've earned every bit of it." Hey, whatever it takes to shut her up.
At another sidewalk café table, Michael is trying to get Jimmy to tell him how to get the data once he enters the room. Jimmy insists that he's going to have to accompany Michael on the job, because he's the only one who knows how to get past the data security measures he himself installed. Suddenly noticing a shitty surveillance guy who's making a big production out of peering at Michael and writing down notes a few tables over, Michael warns Jimmy that it's going to be dangerous. But Jimmy is determined to do this for his family. Michael gets up from the table, pretending to stretch, which sends the amateur tail sprinting into the park across the street. As Michael gives chase, he VOs about the meaning of "badly done surveillance -- that is, surveillance you notice." Sometimes it's because the organization is simply cheap, but other organizations just want you to know they're watching, which is probably the case here. Michael catches up with the guy and casually holds him to the pavement with a boot to his chest while looking around for other watchers and asking who sent him. The guy says he just answered an ad in the paper. "Some woman," he says. He also gives Michael an envelope containing a photo of Jimmy's wife and kid. "Hurry up -- we're waiting," it says on the back. Carla totally writes like a dude.