The episode opens with a money shot. No, not that kind. We see many hundred-dollar bills being laid out on the green felt of a gaming table, then big bills being shoved into the not-so-secret holding box courtesy of a big Lucite spatula, and then enough chips to make a scale model of the Montecito. Just in case you were wondering how many chips that might be, it's approximately $20,000 worth. The chips slide across the gaming table and into Wallace Langham's anxious arms. Yay, Wallace Langham! He does anxious weasel so well. Anyway, Wallace stacks many chips in his little chip case, then lays one -- one measly leetle chip -- back down on the table to bet. Ooh, that's not exactly normal. When he busts (card count: 24), he takes his chips and goes.
This attracts the attention of the security crew. We figure this out when the camera zooms from a table's-eye view up to a monitor. Danny tells Big Ed that this is the second time in six hours that Wallace has bought $20,000 in chips and only played one before taking off. Danny's already checked him out: Wallace is playing someone named Julian Kervis, and Julian and his clean crime record are staying at the Montecito for two nights. "Julian" he may be on the show, but he's "Wallace" for recapping purposes. Big Ed floats the possibility of counterfeit bills; Danny replies that they've already checked the bills in the box from the last table Wallace played.
Just then, the phone rings. Big Ed checks it out, then commands an extra to display Camera 25 on one of the screens. This is how we transition out of the office and back on to the floor, where Nessa is telling someone, "We can't allow play to be held up for an extended period." The overweight, red-faced, sweating and gasping man replies, "Okay. Let me just get over this tingling in my arm, and this coppery taste in my mouth, and argh!" Or something to that effect. His tablemate is none too sympathetic to this. That could be hazardous to his karma: he's not exactly a spring chicken himself, and he could easily end up stroking out in the Blockbuster while teenaged boys step over his prone, twitching body and plot to go to the local video rental place, because then they can try to sneak in to the Over-18 section. Captain Coronary collapses on the floor while his astringent table watches dispassionately. Nessa orders her second-in-command -- who actually does bear an uncanny resemblance to Emma Frost -- to get some paramedics on the scene, then shut down the pit, as this heart attack could be part of an elaborate fraud. As Captain Coronary's life flashes before him down on the floor there, Nessa directs the other guy to cash in his chips because she's shutting down the table. "I just split a pair!" he protests. Oh, it's just too bad he's a pretend person on a TV show, because if he weren't, I'd devote my free time to following him around and waiting for the karmic backlash to knock him into the next world.