From McManus's failures to Gloria's -- she's standing over Pancamo's almost-dead husk, sucking her thumb and trying to look like she cares. McManus walks in, lured by the aroma of self-pity, and gushes about how Gloria owes him a drink and he really needs a drink and is she ready to go have a drink because did he mention he'd like a drink? Gloria decides that she'd rather gaze longingly at someone who doesn't know she's in the room than have a drink with McManus, which I think is the right decision. McManus tries to banter. Gloria really wants to wallow, and to explain why she's wallowing, but will settle for a cup of coffee. They curl up and get comfortable in a bland office, and McManus asks if Gloria has yet had the pleasure of meeting his wife, uh, his ex-wife. Nunca, says G.Na. Well, says "I Love A Pity Party" McManus, the ex wouldn't up-end her life to follow my own personal Very Important Dreams, so I, of course, bailed on her ass. But I feel so guilty, and it feels so bad, and why do I have to suffer so, and what if? Gloria moans, "Don't talk to me about regret, I own the patent," and then McManus interrupts, because he does have a point, really, and he's going in a direction, really. After marching in the parade of failures in solitary that afternoon, McManus consoled himself by thinking about Omar White, who they did -- really, really -- turn around. They saved him. And that one life makes everything worth it. And the timer on the bomb of Omar White's meltdown begins ticking away.
Whew, says McManus, I feel better now that I've unloaded all over you, Gloria. Now that I've introduced our next vignette, I'm going to wrap up this 45-second "cup of coffee" with a kiss and go get hammered while you stare at the Italian.
Crimetime. So there's a guy who's been buried up to his neck, and there's this amped-up-looking biker guy in a Darth Vader motorcycle helmet, and there's a giant swine standing and yelling next to the biker guy, and then the biker guy runs right over the buried guy's head, and there's a wet crunching sound. As gross as that is, Robson's mouth is grosser.
Biker Guy is Wolfgang Cutler, and he's one mean dude.
Wolfgang Cutler wants into the Brotherhood. He says so in the gym. Schillinger, pecs dancing, tells Wolfgang Cutler that fearlessness must be shown. Fearlessness to kill the dusky. Franklin's posing against the chain link fence like Kim Wilde. Wolfgang suggests Said; Schillinger approves in a non-self-implicating way. An undercover Gavin Rossdale, transformed with spectacles, overhears and races off to tell Omar, asleep under a book, the shocking news. Omar's eyes dart, and the countdown accelerates. Omar confronts Cutler in the mailroom, but Cutler denies the plot. Omar communicates in the strange language that only he understands and warns Cutler, "Don't make me angry -- you won't like me when I'm angry." Cutler postures, and Omar flips to the tune of two headbutts, a headlock, and lots of "fucks," which reduces the cursing Cutler to a non-breathing, death-like state. Omar, terrified of his own bad self, administers mouth-to-mouth and revives Cutler before scurrying off to tell Said.