Gil asks, "Why didn't you file a police report?" Taco Master clucks, "Oh, bother you guys with something like that? I was a kid once. Those guys just needed someone to set them straight." Or stab and sear them straight. Potato, po-tah-to, you know? Taco Master hands over the carnitas and Gil takes them as if expecting to get a cleaver to the knuckles. Heh. Gil makes as if to pay, and Taco Master tells him it's on the house. Gil is in no mood to argue with a man who's so quick with the lard. He is, however, in a mood to dial Brass and tell him, "We need to go back to the hospitals. We may be looking for a burn patient."

Well, I'm sure Liam would be happy to send you over to one he knows about. But really, we're looking at a new burn patient, one Lawrence Lafontaine. As Brass comes in to arrest him, Lawrence is all, "Did Vern rat me out?" You know, it's hard to live the thug life with a name like Vern. Gil replies that it was a telltale taco. Lawrence snots, "Everyone in my 'hood knows that old taco guy. To get whupped by his old ass and not do anything about it?"

Apparently, the first thing Lawrence and Vern did was go into a flashback, where Vern was whimpering to Lawrence, "It hurts for reals, dawg." Lawrence plays Clara Barton and ties on a bandanna with the tender admonition, "Stop being such a little baby." Vern decides, "I need some medicine, and I ain't talkin' about going to no hospital either." Fortunately for him, Walgreen's is open 24 hours, and it doesn't ask questions. Lawrence decides that gosh darn it, before the night is over, he will have broken the social contract in some form!