We join Bill in his palatial estate just as he finds himself on the receiving end of a squawk from Zippy. "Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me," Bill says in increasing exasperation. "Do not confuse my admitting a mistake -- like a gentleman -- with a check made out to you to subsequently go berserk." I guess those squawks are Zippy making more demands of Bill. Wonder what's he's asking now -- go form a bowling team with Dickstein, Ramon, and Cunningham? Go get me a Dove Bar? Let me crap in your pocket some more? Whatever it is, it's got Bill flustered. Responding to another squawk, Bill concedes that he got along well with Freddy -- "Twenty-six years in law enforcement, I am able to co-exist with shitheels" -- but notes that "the subject you raise now concerns a different kettle of fish." And that kettle of fish is apparently John, with Bill still smarting from their "I got my eye on you" exchange from four episodes ago. Zippy squawks some more, and Bill seems resigned: "So this isn't an even-handed back-and-forth? This is me on the receiving end of you delivering unalterable instructions." Bill storms off to go urinate. It says something that of the three scenes we've had so far, the most compelling dialogue has been not between Cissy and Mitch nor between Cass and John, but rather between Bill and his squawking bird.
We cut to Freddy and Palaka watching rain fall from their room at the snug harbor, so perhaps they can give Bill and Zippy a run for their money, repartee-wise. "You don't want to go bandying that shit about," Freddy says out of nowhere. "Just ask that girl, Marie, about bandying about my...sleep talk." Ah, that -- Palaka's faithful account of Freddy's sleepy-time mutterings from the last episode. Apparently, Marie is resting in peace -- and pieces -- on the Big Island. Palaka finally grasps what Freddy is talking about and -- brain surgeon that he is -- repeats the very dialogue Freddy has just told him not to bandy about. Freddy tries changing the subject: when is Palaka going to get the X-rays Dr. Smith recommended? That'd be never. "Physicians, they toss it off. 'Get yourself an X-ray' like 'Next light, go left.'" Yes, we can't trust doctors and their reliance on additional data to determine a course of treatment -- I recommended leeches to suck out the bad humors in your body that are clearly responsible for the fractured wrist. "Just remember what I said," Freddy says, cutting off Palaka's anti-medicine blather. "That other thing." "Believe me, it's recorded," says Palaka, pointing to his skull. "In here." Be careful that it doesn't die from loneliness.