The reason Horatio wanted discretion is because Quentin's got a flash-burn on his face, and that's usually the result of being in contact with accelerant. Horatio asks if Quentin's a base-head, and we see a flashback in which Quentin is stupid enough to slop 100-proof vodka all over his face before reaching for the pipe and lighting up. Well, all those commercials do say your deductive faculties will go once you begin using drugs. I guess they're onto something. Quentin confesses that he had an accident a couple of days ago. Horatio asks where his cocaine is, and Quentin claims to have tossed it because it's a bad habit. Horatio helpfully adds, "And stupid. Did you torch the club?" Quentin protests that he wouldn't, because the club is his life and he keeps all his money here. To illustrate, Quentin heads to the safe. Well, he had been keeping all his money at the club. Quentin promptly loses his cool. Horatio says, "It's just not your day, is it?" It's not his, either. Whoever is doing the camera work on this episode is evidently unable to bring himself to gaze directly upon the careworn visage of Horatio Caine, and so the screen is filled with two separate light sources and a man-shaped, blacked-out hole in the middle. Quentin mourns the loss of $15,000, then tells Horatio only Bartender Johnny had the combination. Bartender Johnny is nowhere to be seen. Horatio concludes, "If you were robbed, that safe is evidence."
But before we can learn more of Horatio's canny plan to do who-knows-what with the safe, Horatio trails off. He's noticed Delko leaning against a doorframe. The two men wander a little ways and have a one-on-one chat during which Horatio inquires solicitously about Delko's well-being, and Delko insists that he has to work. By doing what -- putting on his wet suit and splashing through the puddles in the sodden, burnt-out husk of Club Descent? I admire his willingness to stay on the job, and his need to reassert some control over his life by working on the crime scene, but I wish to God someone associated with this team would suggest that two CSIs traumatized by a slow-roasted mob scene might not be the best people to investigate what happened. I also wish TV shows would feature people who are like, "You know what? It has been a pretty hellish experience, and there's a big bathtub and a bottle of Calgon calling my name. Don't call -- I'm taking the phone off the hook until the PTSD flashbacks subside." Horatio directs Delko to print the safe.