Over at the bathhouse, Hawkeye is washing the stink off while Adams brushes down his jacket. Poor Adams and his clothes-horsiness in this damn camp. How many of his off hours must he have spent laundering and lint rolling? Even Wu probably couldn't get out every stain, you know, ancient Chinese secret or not. He is no doubt thinking along these lines as he snarks to his friend. "Your fuckin' throat's gonna be at risk, Hawkeye, in case you don't fuckin' realize," he says, "which wouldn't bother me except mine's gonna be too."
A nauseating business is taking place in Hearst's rooms and this time I don't refer to his cobbler gobbling. Alma, looking austere and superior in her black hat and dress takes great pains to rise above Hearst's insufferable yammering as the claim is signed over and the deal is done. When Bullock says that they'll accept his payment at the bank where it can be put into the safe, Hearst has the unbelievable brass to be offended and, even more unbelievably, looks to Alma to defend him, saying that taking such a precaution is juvenile on Bullock's part. "I do not find the precaution juvenile," she says quietly, but with a voice full of razors, "so many having been murdered with whom you've had dealings in this camp." Aw, snap. Here's Hearst's chance to get over himself for the five seconds it would take for Alma to walk out the door, but he just can't do it. He has to smart back that at least she acknowledges the whole bank/safe precaution was an insult. Alma, righteous, has had her limit of his bullshit. "I acknowledge the pretense to civility, in a man so brutally vicious, as vapid and grotesque," she says and, in a great shot, they both stand swiftly putting them practically nose to nose. Alma gives him dead eyes, as Hearst goes on a stupid rant to his goon about taking the gold over to the bank and letting Alma assay it -- he manages to make a Jews/greed insult and then goes on a side rant to the nervous Sol about the election. Bullock can't take another second of Hearst's bloviating. "Can't shut up!" he sneers. "Every bully I ever met can't shut his fuckin' mouth...except when he's afraid." Sweet one, Bullock. May you clench for all eternity! Hearst tries to come back with kind of an I-know-you-are-but-what-am-I, but to my mind, it fails miserably. "You mistake for fear, Mr. Bullock, what is in fact preoccupation," he says. "I'm having a conversation you cannot hear." Oh, fuck off. Wait -- can you hear me now? Fuck OFF. Alma, severely framed in the doorway during this exchange, leaves with a roll of her eyes.