How much do I love Quinn? Answer: A lot. The man look like a sap, but operates like a shark. He's the new babysitter for Agents Hale and Kellerman, and apparently connected to some driving force behind this whole kill-Lincoln-Burrows thing.
Also, how much do I love C-Note? Answer: nearly as much as Quinn. The con manages to find the big, honkin' hole in St. Louis and bullies his way on to Team Escarpara by the end of the episode. You can imagine the everlasting joy that white supremacist T-Bag feels over this development. It's nearly as great as Michael's.
And in Scofield-related developments this week, he manages to pull Abruzzi's fat out of the fire and produce a location for Fibonacciâ¦that turns out to be false. However, the ruse is set up in a way to permanently take care of Philly Falsone while keeping Fibonacci safe; it re-establishes Abruzzi as the boss on the inside; and it gets Team Escarpara back on PI and in St. Louis. In between these elaborate schemes, Michael has time to lay down some origami on the good Dr. Tancredi.
Tonight's episode begins in the past. Sadly, it's not far enough in the past to justify shooting the whole thing in sepia tones and putting everyone in Olde Tyme Costumes. It's only far enough back to show Michael getting some playing cards tattooed on his arm: three of hearts, one of clubs, two of hearts, nine of spades, a bunch of numbers I can't see, then ending with a three of clubs, a five of clubs and a two of clubs. I have no doubt these specific suits have some tremendously significant meaning. I just don't know what it is.
We transition from Michael's inking to the prison yard, where Abruzzi's laying out a hand of solitaire and glaring balefully at the new, non-Team Escarpara PI crew. Inside the St. Louis building, the PI crew is doing all sorts of demolition-related work and managing not to find the big honkin' hole in the middle of the floor. We see one fireplug of a worker go tromping all over it, but the fire-damaged plaque miraculously holds his weight. Maybe if Michael's feeling generous, he can leave an escape note advising Pope et al. to rebuild St. Louis entirely out of meaningless award plaques, so it'll be stronger than ever.
In the yard, Abruzzi's trying to get Bellick's attention so we can transition that much more quickly into this week's scene establishing that verily, Bellick delights in the suffering of others. What will it be this time -- denying transplant patients a new organ while snacking on a plate of liver 'n' onions? Stacking school boards with creationists? Nothing so spectacularly evil, I'm afraid: Bellick just wants his bribes. "You think I like getting piss thrown at me? Spit on? These other chumps might do it for the 40 grand a year and the little blue uniform, but I'm not that dumb. Falzone's envelope is the only reason I come through that fence every day, and it's the only reason I'm going to keep coming through that fence until I have enough money to buy that house on Lake Gray. I'm thinking early retirement, John. And you're interfering with that." Bellick stomps off. Abruzzi collapses against the fence in a sebaceous swoon.
In another, less oily part of the yard, Michael's standing around and staring. I can't believe his habit of going pop-eyed at the slightest provocation hasn't weirded out the other inmates yet. Abruzzi comes over, saying testily, "They're gonna find it. The longer they're in there, the sooner they're going to find it." Michael does not reply, "Well, if someone hadn't put all his accounts in his corrupt boss's name, this wouldn't be a problem, would it?" Instead, he settles for stating the obvious: they have to get back in there. Abruzzi says, "I'm going to say something crazy to you." "Surprise, surprise," Michael sneers. Abruzzi continues, "I don't give a damn about that Fibonacci anymore --" "You're right. That is crazy," Michael jeers. Abruzzi continues, "Because I got bigger things to think about in here, like survival. You see, I'm kind of short on friends in here, in case you haven't noticed." "Well, have you maybe tried asking people about their interests? Refrained from cutting off their toes when they tried to reply?" Michael asks. Or not. Abruzzi says he just wants out alive. Michael's all, "Don't you try to be all subtle with the Fibonacci mention when what you really want is for me to give him up to Philly Falzone for you." Abruzzi's like, "Okay then. I'll just let my accent get a Eurail pass and travel all over. How du yew like me nooow? Neuw koan we tuk about Feeeebonahhhhci?" Michael looks at him, clearly thinking, Pick a diphthong and stick with it.
Some short time later, we're in the prison's airy and elegantly minimalist chapel, where the mere handful of inmates concerned about the state of their immortal souls are listening to Reverend Lovejoy drone on about the meaning of Job's torment. Linc would rather dwell on his own craptacular situation. He tells Michael flatly to give up Fibonacci; Michael hisses back, "If I do, they'll kill him." It's worth noting that he's sitting behind Linc, with his head propped up on his folded arms like a sleepy kid in class; it's a nice contrast to Linc's weary, erect posture and a nice commentary on the roles the two assume around one another. Linc decides that this man he's never met and knows nothing about deserves to die. Michael sets him straight: "That's the thing -- he doesn't…he was working for the Mafia, he just didn't know it. Otto Fibonacci is just like you. An innocent man caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was middle management at one of Abruzzi's warehouses. Just a normal guy, working class, religious -- and somebody who couldn't turn his back on murder. He realized that Abruzzi and Falzone, the men he worked for, were killers. That he had the key to all their dealings -- things that could put them away for life. The judge asked him why he was coming forward with all this information. He said it was because it was the right thing to do."