Chandler gives Michael a little tour of the gallery, saying it's under 24-hour video surveillance. We can even see the cameras hanging from the ceiling and swiveling around, so we know it's for real. And then there are the keypads controlling access to the back offices. "Nobody gets in here without me knowing it," Chandler boasts, which is kind of rich under the circumstances. Michael asks if anyone works late a lot, and Chandler says he's first in, last out every day. "Think you can find whoever's doing this?" he asks Michael. Well, the subtitles seem to think so; they say, "Chandler -- The client." Michael asks for a floor plan of the office and promises to get back to Chandler, just as his cell phone rings. "Alpha, it's Bravo," whispers Seymour excitedly. He tells Michael to come over -- he's got good news.
"Over here" turns out to be one of Miami's millions of sidewalk cafés, where Seymour shares what he's learned about Derek Poole: "He does demo for the city, but he moonlights for the Russian mob," a couple of shaven-headed members of which just happen to be sitting at a nearby table. Seymour doesn't know where Poole is now, but he does know that he has a girlfriend who he sees pretty regularly for "together time." He says it, and Michael reacts, like this is some kind of off-puttingly filthy expression. Seymour turns this into a tangent about Michael and Fi that grosses Michael out so much he has to tell Seymour, "We're not together," and reminds him, "Bomber's girlfriend. Stay focused." Seymour starts to point at a white car being driven into a parking space by a pretty blonde, and Michael grabs his hand, telling him not to do that. Then he covers it by clasping Seymour's hands together romantically over the table and smiling, which Seymour seems more than fine with. Seymour says her name is Bianca, and she just happens to work here at the Russian mob hangout. Michael congratulates Seymour on his nice work. The subtitles back Michael up by saying, "Bianca -- The bomber's girlfriend." Seymour adds that he's having Jackass put a tracker on her car. Irritated, Michael asks, "He's gonna put a tracking device under her car in front of the Russian mob?" Well, not the whole Russian mob. Michael thinks Jackass is going to screw up and tip the girlfriend off -- like, if you can't trust a guy named Jackass, who can you trust? -- so he gets up to go fix it.
As he walks through the parking lot, he VOs, "To protect someone without blowing your cover, you have to come up with a story. One that explains what they're doing, explains what you're doing, and gets everyone out in one piece." Even Jackass. As he meets Jackass coming the other way, he holds up a set of keys, loudly telling a confused Jackass that he forgot them on his wife's dresser. And he sells it by popping him in the stomach. Man, it sucks to be Jackass. "Of course, not everyone is a born storyteller," Michael VOs. True, but not everyone can make a good smoothie, either. "Go with it, run," Michael says quietly to Jackass. Jackass protests that he has his orders from Seymour, so Michael punches him in the face (to the amusement of the Russian mobsters hanging around) and pushes him on his way. "And don't let me catch you near my wife again!" he sobs.