The PI crew's standing around for their 19 cents an hour, and Michael decides now is the time to ask Lincoln if he's heard anything from Veronica recently. Lincoln has not. He monotones, "Doesn't feel right. Feels wrong." Wrong, you say? The opposite of right? Michael's too busy glaring at CO Stickyfingers to listen.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Quinn's taken Nick to the woodshed. He says, with some mild, feigned surprise: "I've come to a realization. Either Ms. Donovan and that boy don't like you very much, or they have an unreasonable amount of faith in your cardiovascular system. So tell me, Nick, this all you got? This paper trail of an indictment that never even happened? Is this it? We know you don't have a surveillance tape any more. We know you don't have anybody to testify. Is this really all you got?" Nick goes to grab a piece of wood so he can club Quinn, and Quinn testily points out, "Mr. Savrinn, that bullet went through your teres major, ripped the lateral margin of your scapula, leaving you absolutely no medial rotation of your arm. So if you try to swing that piece of lumber at me…" He'll scream like Tom Cruise on Oprah? Because that's what I'm seeing here. Quinn purrs, "Come on, Nick. Mr. Project Justice. We both know why you're really here, don't we? And it ain't to save Lincoln Burrows' life." Well, would one of you two tell us why, then? Because we're curious.
Inside the A-block, Tweener is rapping. Either that, or he's murdering blank verse in an effort to scare incarcerated poets. He raps about a twelve-round bout. Whatever you say, kid. You're not so much Eminem as you are Skittles. Michael comes in just as we get to the verse about T-Bag on his mind. Awkward… Michael asks if Tweener's still interested in getting on PI, and Tweener effuses, "Does my momma got big breastseses?" Michael is like, "I wouldn't know." Grinning, Tweener replies, "Hell, yes, she does. And hell, yes, I do." Ah, but there's a catch. Michael needs Tweener to lift the gold watch off CO Stickyfingers. We establish it's some sort of fancy-shmancy theft-proof watch, but Tweener's confident he can solve the problem creatively. Michael refrains from asking if Tweener's pickpocketing is more creative than his rap. ["Anyone else reminded of the scene in Shawshank where they tell Tommy he needs a new line of work, because he's obviously not that good at stealing?" -- Sars]
Hey, remember that plot contrivance in Pope's office? Here it is: "Westmoreland, I've called you in here to tell you that your daughter has fast-moving, inoperable TV cancer. We can only hope it's the kind that makes her more radiant as she nears death. And all your legitimate visitation attempts are not at all possible. I just thought you'd like to know, so you can brood over how impotent you feel in the face of this horrible knowledge." It is to the credit of both actors that they make it through this scene with their dignity intact. (And on a slightly related note: I love that Prison Break respects its elders -- it's nice to see a show that doesn't take the Logan's Run approach to casting.)