The elder O'Reily, a real teddy bear of a guy, seems really excited about the media attention he's gotten from Cyril's trial, since it might get him laid, and because he is Crass and Shallow and A Bad Father. The New Ryan wants his father to tell Cyril he loves him, and wonders if the words "I love you" have ever crossed the man's lips. The New Ryan also wants to talk about Carolyn and his father's role in her death. Seems Carolyn had a set of pipes, and spent the majority of the day she died crying, and Pops O'Reily was real drunk. Pops jumps up and spits, "Fuck you," and Ryan tells him to sit own or he'll finish telling his story to a cop. That works. Then Ryan reminds Pops that he started shaking the little girl. And shaking her. And shaking her. Until she stopped crying and went limp. Gee, it's funny you should say that, says Pops, because the way I see it, "she fell out of her crib." Ryan ain't buying, which encourages Pops to take a quick trip to Victim City -- he was abused too, and abuse is like a chain letter, since no one wants it but you feel pressure to pass it along to friends and family nonetheless. So back off with the shakey-shakeys, 'cause you don't know crap. I'll never tell, says Ryan, but then advises his father to "pray to Jesus Christ Almighty Himself that I never get out of this place, 'cause when I do, I'll kill you." Nice work, Dean Winters. That was a genuine threat. Pops looks like he knows it, too.
Pete brings Jericho to Cyril, which makes him happy. As she leaves, Ryan stops her to confide that he's changed his tune and will now do anything he can to save Cyril. Well, zippidee-do-da-day. Ryan then visits Cyril, and they love each other, and the trumpets swell, and then they activate their Wonder Twin powers, which engulfs Hill in smoke.
Oh, never mind, it's a monologue. Drugs cause impotence. Smoking causes impotence, which I already know from those droopy cigarette anti-smoking ads. It causes penile artery clogs. Ew.
Hill's leaving the infirmary, but he's not out of those woods yet. Gloria threatens to clean out his catheter herself if she hears of hygiene neglect, and then they both chuckle awkwardly when they realize what she's just said. Back in Hill's pod, Poet grovels for a minute before Hill tells him to get to the point, so Poet pretty much begs Hill to stay quiet about where he got the drugs. Since, to cover his ass, Poet sacrificed DeSanto and the treaty with the Latinos, and he doesn't really want the truth circulating at this late date. No worries, says Hill, "I won’t rat you out." He's taking responsibility for his own choices, so the buck stops right there. Poet thanks him and says that if he, Poet, were a girl, then he, Hill, would be getting some tongue. Hill says, "If you was a girl, you'd be butt-ass ugly." That's so funny. And so true. I just laughed out loud.