We cut to a shirtless Sammy psyching himself up for his pending bout by shadowboxing to a pale imitation of James Brown. Good God, y'all. One of the underlings comes in and points out that Sammy could just use a gun, saying, "You don't have to fight that guy." Sammy stops and says, "It's my farewell tour." Haaaaa. Everyone is snarky in Sona today! I thoroughly approve.
We cut back to the tunnel, where the boys are at an impasse because they really do need the tools to work. Michael decides to pass the time by grilling Whistler on the book, and then flipping through it himself. Whistler tries to downplay the importance of the volume with: "It's just a bunch of numbers and dates." Michael commences quizzing Whistler -- he rents his trawler from Gate Netting Company, "stampede" is his buddy's cape islander -- and Mahone's all, "Things would be so much easier if you'd drop the humble man-of-the-sea act and accept that Michael will regard you with nothing less than a mixture of loathing and contempt." The guys then debate trying to head upstairs with someone still in the room.