Back at Imperial Beach's fancy hotel, Butchie is dropping off his baby mama. "Don't leave town," he says, which is a lot less ambiguous than the last time he offered his thoughts on the subject. Tina intends to stay, without "giving Cissy a heart attack." Yeah, good luck on meeting that goal -- and I don't think any of us would judge you if you did. Butchie assures her that he'll get to the bottom of Shaun's disappearance; hey, someone should give it their best shot, since Milch is apparently taking a pass. "John's not an asshole, or he'd know how to take a dump," says Tina, repeating Butchie's words of reassurance from the other day. She goes to leave, he takes her hand before she does. Hey, they get along now! Butchie shoves a crumpled dollar bill into her hand; "Give the guy a tip," he says. Oh, Butchie, you don't have to pretend -- we know you don't dislike the woman who gave birth to your son. Your secret's safe with us.
Linc and John have taken their Q-and-A session to what passes for a lawn at the Snug Harbor. "Does your Father have a Father, John?" asks Linc. Oh, you know where this is going, don't you? John says that yes, his Father does have a Father. Linc wonders what's his name. "Father," John says. And: rim shot. "Like George Foreman and his kids," Linc jokes. "Like George Foreman?" John asks. John is not much for the topical humor -- now or in 1995. "Do you know your Father's Father?" Linc asks. "I know my Father's Father's words," John responds. Would that be Father? Or Father Jr.? I'm having a hard time keeping all these Fathers straight. "What are his words?" Linc asks. "'Listen to your Father,'" John says. And: rim shot, again. "That what your Father's Father says to you?" Linc snorts. "That's what my Father's Father says to my Father," John says. Let's throw a few more Fathers into that sentence -- I came dangerously close to deciphering it. "You don't talk," Linc gathers. "You and your Father's Father?" "We don't talk," John agrees. Ah -- they're estranged. It all makes sense to me now. Well, not really, but I'm trying to put on a good show of it for you people. "But He's alive," Linc says. "Your Father's Father?" John stares at Linc and repeats this very slowly and very deliberately: "I listen to my Father's Words." Linc decides to cut to the chase, sparing us further fruitless explorations of John's family tree: "What am I supposed to do? Tell me what to do, my brother. Just spit it right the fuck out. Five words, maximum, right now. Pow, boom!" "Maximum. Right now. Pow. Boom," John says. To his credit, those are five words. "Give me a pound," John says. "No, you give me a pound," Linc responds. Fist pounds for everyone!