Speaking of the dreamy inmate, here he is trying to recreate the blueprints with rolled-up bits of the sweatshirt. We get a boatload of disjointed flashbacks, but those don't really help Michael at all. He eventually sweeps everything away in frustration. Lincoln asks Michael how he's doing. In response, Michael stands up again, saying, "I put my blood into this," then punching the wall. This goes on for some time. Owwww.

Appropriately enough, there's a full moon outside. Sucre puts on his dark clothes, quickly gets out of the cell, then scampers out to St. Louis. Sucre quickly sets to work and gets the hole patched in no time. It's too bad he didn't think to drop a sledgehammer down into the passage first -- there's no point in having a thin patch over the floor if it's still too thick for the inmates to bust.

Stolte's outside doing his rounds, and he hears something in St. Louis. He comes in and it's all very tense, but Sucre turns out to have hidden behind some supplies, so there's no way Stolte's going to find him.

After Stolte leaves, Sucre goes to make a run for it. Unfortunately, he barely gets a few yards before the lights go on. Sucre immediately drops to his knees, shouting, "Please don't shoot! Don't shoot!" The guards are unmoved by his politeness.

Commercials. I like how Domino's is debuting a new, larger pizza for our new, larger nation.

When we come back, Bellick is practically giddy from the delightful prospect of being able to legitimately abuse an inmate. First, he tells Sucre, "The state of Illinois doesn't look too kindly upon prisoners who try to escape." Does any state in the union? Bellick then helpfully points out that should he decide Sucre was trying to escape, charges would be filed and another dime would get added to Sucre's sentence. Sucre protests that he wasn't trying to escape. Narrowly interpreted, that statement is not a lie. In fact, Sucre could truthfully assert that he was trying to get back to his cell. Bellick says mockingly, "You're just out there howling at the moon." As Bellick grabs Sucre by the throat and bids him to begin talking -- which seems like sort of an unfair set-up, if you ask me -- another CO checks around the corner to make sure nobody's around to see this. Sucre decides he doesn't really need that last lungful of air, and he gasps that he stayed out in the yard under the bleachers so he could get a package that was getting sent over the walls.