Mama Williams sings and does the dishes, and Smash comes in, looking sweet and repentant, and she hugs him and laughs, and they are super sweet. So of course Smash drops the hammer that Whitmore is out of the running. Which sucks on many levels, but I am not so clueless that I am going to lecture you on why HBCs are awesome, even in the world of today. He explains to her his very valid side of all of this, Street aside, again: he's going pro, there is no chance he's not going pro, he needs to surround himself with people who believe that, because there's only one way he can get what he wants. And even if she can't see it, or is minimizing it, that one thing he wants is to save all of his family at the same time, because his father was a trifling man and is now dead, so he has to save them all at the same time, because that's the only option he has, and all of her No does real damage to the future Smash that is going to do these things, who exists in his head. Future Smash that would cause him to do really awful, horrible things, like steroids and lying about money for steroids and robbing God for steroids. Smash is a good boy. He drives me nuts, but I do like him, and that's why: it's never been about his glory. He's so sold on himself that he has as much glory, right this second, than he could ever want or need. Waverly proved that. It's not about glory, it's about getting there. And possibly Porsches, but mostly Super Future Smash, which is what makes this so hard, because he's wrong by being right. He tells her also that in order to preserve Super Future Smash, she's not invited to any more recruitment meetings. Well, there's not a way to take that well, but she does okay.
Tami sits across a table with Buddy Garrity with all her cards very well hidden. She's done a lot of thinking, and a lot of research on Santiago. He's been in Juvie twice, and there's a history of violent episodes -- which I'm sure will bite us in the ass around episode 14 or so -- and all of this info together makes for a very messed up situation. So you put a kid with that stuff going on, that fear of extinction, that confusion of purpose, that strength without will or direction, that pain, into foster care or a group home...seriously. Foster care turned me into Wolverine, and I'm the biggest pussy you've ever met. I can't imagine how damaged Santiago would be by it, especially so close to being an adult, especially being so self-sufficient already. Buddy goes, "I understand." And you know, he does. The fear is back, because this, now, is Buddy's test, and he knows it. There's no Super Future Buddy, anymore. Even before he got kicked out of the house and started drinking, he'd given up on that. He's more like Santiago than not: they're both living alone in squalor with no idea how to grow up. Buddy Garrity is the loneliest man in Dillon, and the worst part is, he and everybody else knows it. So the question isn't, "Can Buddy be the father to this boy?" The question is, "Can two half men make one whole one?" Breaks my heart; breaks Tami's heart too.