Well, while that little move solves Michael's short-term problem, it's not going to do a whole lot to solve a longer-term one, since C-Note has just noticed his newest customer making nice with the Fabulously Gay White Supremacists.
Meanwhile, Michael's making a bid with T-Bag: "Whatever it takes, if you want me to fight, I'll fight. The bolt from the bleachers? That's what it was for." T-Bag's all, "You want to fight, you get your chance. Next count." Adam sidles up behind Michael and gives him a look that's meant to be predatory, but ends up coming off like he's playing Gollum in the prison repertory performance of Hobbit! The Musical!. ["Don't laugh: it's real." -- Wing Chun] Michael's all, "So the fight's tonight?" It sure is. Michael alludes to the bolt again, but Adam simpers, "You want a weapon, bitch?" and drops what looks to be a pen in his pocket.
So! Michael's still down a bolt, he gotten nowhere with Abruzzi, and now his PUGNAc supplier is really pissed at him. I'd say he's 0-for-3 today.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Tim Giles comes by Veronica's plushy office to apologize for being so short with her: "The closer it comes to an execution, the harder it becomes, so..." And then he makes a peace offering, handing over the surveillance tape from the garage the night Linc purportedly killed Terrence Steadman. He wishes her good luck, and she blurts out, "With what?" "Picking up subtle, coded clues, woman! You're supposed to be unraveling a conspiracy here!" he snaps. No, not really. He'd like her to get closure. Veronica pops it into the VCR she just happens to have in her office, and watches Linc lurch over to a parked car all Frankenstein-style. He's got a gun out, since "stealth" is apparently not a watchword when you're busy not-killing someone with that gun in your hand, and he walks over to the side of the car furthest from the tape and fires at something we can't see. Veronica looks taken aback. We get a close-up of her horrified mouth. And then another of her horrified eyes. We see Linc run around to the passenger side of the car to open it -- what, the bullet didn't shatter the glass on the driver's side? Should I just let go of this unreasonable expectation for things to make sense? -- and then he checks something in the front seat and runs off. Veronica looks aghast.