Back in the big game, the camera over Jesus's shoulder reveals that he's holding three sevens, which is much better than the non-straight that C-Note has. Jesus bets all he has -- $82. C-Note hesitates -- we call that a "tell," folks -- before raising Jesus another $74. "I said I only got $82 left," Jesus says. "Then I guess you're out of luck," C-Note retorts. And with that, Jesus folds, making C-Note the winner. Except…that's not how poker works, at least not in any game that I've played. Once a player goes all in, you can either call the bet or fold -- you can't raise someone money they don't have. Maybe prison poker works different. Whatever the rationale, it gives what should have been an engaging scene a phony-baloney feel.
While we contemplate a world where people can make up rules to card games as they go along, Haywire is trying to show he's not so crazy after all. He's kept a whole sketchbook full of drawings of Michael's tattoo. And he's going to use them to sneak out on his own. It's a brilliant plan, and it would have worked, too…provided Haywire didn't set off the alarm trying to get into the basement. Haywire quickly realizes that he's been set up by Michael -- again -- and flies into a rage. That's nothing a taser blast to the small of your back won't fix, and soon, a subdued Haywire is being lugged back to his room while Michael watches from a window. Check and mate, old friend.
Out in the yard, C-Note hands a thick wad of bills to Geary, only to find that the price of the cell has jumped another $200 to $700. Where is this prison cell -- Northern California? C-Note is outraged at this trickery, which is a funny posture to take for a guy who acquired his $500 stake largely via a rigged poker game. Geary is predictably unsympathetic, so C-Note turns to Westmoreland and proposes they use Westmoreland's prized watch. They're going to charge 200 cons a dollar each just to look at Westmoreland's watch? Oh, silly me -- C-Note wants to use the watch to make up the difference between the initial $500 investment and the $700 Geary's asking for now. Westmoreland reluctantly agrees. So that makes C-Note landed gentry now, doesn't it? Well, not exactly. "Your problem is somebody already gave me $700 for the cell. So you're SOL," Geary says. "So you're just going to take my money and walk?" an incredulous C-Note asks. "Well, write your congressman," Geary replies. Won't have to -- the way Tom DeLay's been running things lately, C-Note's next cellmate will probably be his congressman.
Commercial break: It's nice to know that Patch Adams will no longer be the most disgraceful entry on Robin Williams's résumé once RV hits theaters.