Raylan turns the question around, and Shelby tells him it's been about twenty years -- he was on his way to meet his girlfriend at the Dairy Queen, where he was going to propose. A kid in a truck cut him off at a light, so he chased after him instead, got in front of him, and ordered him out of the car. Unfortunately, the kid had robbed a liquor store, so he wasn't going to go quietly, and he punched the gas and came at Shelby, hitting him -- but Shelby, in midair, got one shot off that caught the kid right in the chest. Raylan, equal parts amused and impressed: "Maybe I could use your help." Heh. Shelby agrees that he wasn't always a greeter at Big Box, and then Raylan asks if he really has something on Ellen May missing. Shelby plays coy, although Raylan doesn't know the half of it, and Shelby goes on that he spent most of his years as a lawman chasing Arlo, so "how do I know his tendencies ain't been passed down?" Raylan must really be liking Shelby not to take reflexive offense at any comparison to Arlo, but he does caution Shelby that if he does have anything on Boyd, he shouldn't keep it to himself. "After today, he's goin' after you sooner than later." Shelby thanks him for the advice, and when Raylan asks if he ended up marrying the girl, he says no. "And I put flowers on that kid's grave every week." They chuckle, which is super-weird. Not because I care about the kid, but because he ruined the opportunity for a Dairy Queen proposal. At what happier place could two people start a life together?

Some gross lowlife answers his door to find Mark and Tim, and he can't believe Mark's nerve, but Mark says he wants to square things, after which Tim drawls that maybe he should let them in rather than "discuss drug deals on your porch." The guy reluctantly agrees, and as the three of them walk in, they pass a half-dressed guy making a hasty exit, which will make more sense in a moment. Because, when the lowlife clears his throat, Mark starts disrobing, and when Tim turns and is like, uh, dude, Lowlife tells him it's his rule that everyone who comes in strips -- it's the only way he can be sure that (a) no one's wearing a wire and (b) he's the only one packing. The gratuitous use of the word "packing" aside, this policy makes sense to me, but my judgment might not be the most trustworthy when the prospect of naked Tim is, um, dangled before me. Tim wearily says they're just there to settle Mark's debt, but Lowlife is like, debt, that's a good one -- the last time Mark was there, he ripped off eight hundred bucks and a bottle of oxy. Tim, once again, is like, duuuuude, and Lowlife demands double what Mark stole for them to be square. Mark starts to babble about how he doesn't have it, prompting Lowlife to pull his gun -- but Tim's right there with his own piece. "Good thing I never took my pants off, huh?" As I mentioned, I'm not the right person to ask. Tim gets Lowlife to lower his weapon, and when Lowlife requests a down payment -- everything in Mark's wallet -- Tim backs his play. Mark balks, but Tim tells him, "Hand it over to him or I will shoot you myself." Not to be a complete cliché, but siiiigh.