And so it's off to the lunch room we go, where Robson (who's added a fanciful lime-green scarf to his ensemble, thus making him the only person in the entire prison with an acceptable fashion sense) is forced to endure the taunts of Poet and Ryan O'Reily as he waits in line for food. "What shade of lipstick is that?" wonders Ryan. "Dick Suck Red?" Believe it or not, I was actually sort of surprised that there isn't already a real brand of lipstick by that name. Which just goes to show that I don't buy a lot of makeup. You know, in case you were wondering. Pancamo tries to get in on the act as well, suggesting that Robson has started working "Receiving and Discharge," but then Cutler comes flying in from off-screen to live up to his prag-owning responsibilities by decking the guy. The guards quickly move in to break up the fight, and Robson just stands there looking relieved that he actually got his spoon's worth out of the deal. Which, I've learned courtesy of inscrutablyme on the forums, is actually standard procedure for all prag/pragger relationships. [CAUTION: Do NOT open that link if you're at work. Also don't open it if you're overly sensitive, under eighteen, living in a morally repressive society, easily offended by words like "Deleted by the TWoP legal department. Good God, man!", or if you've eaten anything in the last two hours. Otherwise, it's quite entertaining and highly informative.]
Because he's quite clearly the worst warden in the history of the American judicial system, Leo decides to reward Pancamo for this little altercation by giving the Sicilians control of the kitchen now that Crackhead Cosby has decided to become a telemarketer. Chuck Zito makes the most of his unfortunate resemblance to Sylvester Stallone in this scene, and manages to crack me up merely by raising an eyebrow.
The sound of cello music on the soundtrack causes me to cringe in anticipation of another Augustus Interlude, but instead we go to solitary, where Penders and White are trying to puzzle through the nature of their mysterious illness. With the collective brain power amassed between these two, I have no doubt that they'll not only find a cure, but also build a better mousetrap and solve the Grand Unified Field Theorem before lunch. Unfortunately, their deliberations are interrupted by Officer Claire, who slams their little peepholes shut, then praises the blessed silence. Heh. Sometimes I love Claire, and sometimes I just want to curl up into a little ball and cry "Mommy!" when I see her.