We cut to the outside of the prison, where Sofia and Sucre are waiting for Linc to come back from visitation. When Linc does, he has Sofia figure out where the guard's coffee comes from, and he tells Sucre to help him ID a specific guard, on account of they're going to have to drug the guy's coffee. Linc then makes a call to Susan B. and requests, "I need something." We know not what.
Back in Sona, Michael's walking around the halls and brooding. Then there's some skulking in assorted cells, watching the guards, until Lechero's goon squad rounds the corner. They're debating T-Bag. The guy with the hair I hate is all, "He's a clown!" and Sammy growls, "He's a dead clown." Maybe this is why Sammy's in Sona: someone made the mistake of taking him to see Mystere at Treasure Island, and next thing you know.... Anyway, Michael has to hide because it turns out he's in Sammy's cell. This allows us all to see how Bad-Hair-Guy has discovered Sammy's stash of cigars. Sammy laughs, "Take 'em. They're nasty." We then discover that Augusto's been sending in the cigars. Sammy reasons, "I can't make him stop sending them in to me, but I don't work for him, you understand?"
In the next scene, we see Mahone shuffling out to see a visitor, and holy cats, it's Agent Lang! I love her. And that love increases when she gives Mahone a look and says, "I was in the neighborhood." Mahone asks shakily, "You came all this way to visit?" "I came to get you out of here. I can have you in Schaum correctional facility in 48 hours," she replies. (Boy, this show loves the name "Schaum" -- the firm where Michael used to work was called Middleton, Maxwell and Schaum.) Mahone realizes he'd be in St. Louis. Lang says easily, "Sullins wanted medium security but I talked him down." Mahone asks what kind of deal he can expect, and Lang tells him, "The director's giving us a lot of latitude in exchange for testimony about the Lincoln Burrows conspiracy. So, how does eight years sound?" Mahone rejects the offer, presumably because his inevitable slide into giving handjobs for smack is so much more appealing than getting pegged by the One World Conspiracy the minute he's stateside again. Lang tries to point out that without the deal, Mahone is well and truly screwed, because the U.S. government could decide to prosecute him for his many other crimes, so it's in his best interests to take it. Mahone says shakily, "I appreciate the effort -- your effort," and takes off as Lang asks, "Alex? Alex!" Mahone! Exactly how much of your brain have you melted with the heroin? You used to be smarter than this.