Low Winter Sun

Episode Report Card
admin: C+ | 17 USERS: B
It's Hard Out Here For a Hooker
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Previously on Low Winter Sun: Everybody ran to their computers or phones so they could talk to people about what had just happened on Breaking Bad.

Which brings us to the present day...

Frank walks into a dimly lit hotel bar. It takes him a while to do this, which isn't exactly thrilling TV, but the staging is sort of interesting. Everything is color-coded again, this time in shades of blue with velvety textures that suck up the light-like sponges. Frank moves from the relative brightness of the hallway to the darkness of the bar, and wonders if he'll order a whiskey or just drink in all this symbolism.

He sits down next to a guy in a mid-range business suit. The guy doesn't say anything or even look at him. "I want someone in particular," Frank says. The guy still doesn't look at him. It would be funny if he were just there for, like, a paint convention or something, and Frank totally had the wrong guy. "Romanian," Frank goes on. "Light hair, fair skin, green eyes -- emerald eyes." You'd think Frank would have a picture of her, but he'd rather paint a mental image. "Her name's Katia," he says. The guy takes out a snazzy little catalog that's like the L.L. Bean of hookers. Frank flips through it and sees Katia's picture. Doesn't he think it's odd that a woman who's trying to pretend she's dead would have her picture in a catalog? Or that should be listed under her own name? Or that she would already be in this catalog a few short days after getting into town? Like the pimp ran off to Kinko's the minute she hit his doorstep to order a batch of new catalogs. Anyway, Frank points her out as the one he wants.

He waits for her in a nice hotel room, as nervous as a teenaged boy on prom night. He paces, adjust the drapes just so, smooths out the comforter. He sits stiffly on the edge of the bed, afraid to rumple it or himself. As the night wears on, though, he grows less and less prim. Eventually, he's surrounded by empty liquor bottles and candy wrappers from the minibar, and settles back to watch some TV. He's just drifting off to sleep when a knock comes at the door. Frank hurries to clean up the room and straighten up the bed again. He takes a deep breath and throws open the door.

Except it's not Katia standing there, but some other pretty blond who's almost a dead ringer for Sarah Carter. The guy from the bar stands at her side. "She's not who I asked for," Frank says. "She's a fun girl," the guy says. Frank pays him even though he didn't get what he ordered, which is where the similarity to shopping from the L.L. Bean catalog ends. The guy also holds onto Frank's driver's license for safe-keeping. Protecting the girls is probably more about protecting their investment than caring about their well-being, but, given the alternatives, I suppose it's better to be treated as something of a commodity.

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Low Winter Sun




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