In the clubhouse, Juice is just getting out of the loo when Chibs pushes him back in and inquires, "What the hell was that today? Was that another attempt to swing from a tree?" Juice attempts to protest that he's okay, and then breaks down, panting. "Kozik, man. Shit!" He sits down and begins sobbing, and Chibs pats his back, whispering, "Jesus Christ. What's going on with you, boy? Huh? Tell me." Juice admits, "The sheriff found out some shit when he was digging into my profile and he's threatening me with it ... He says he'll tell the club unless I start giving him intel." Chibs asks the hundred dollar question: "Tell the club what? What does he have on you?" Juice finally says, "My dad -- he's black." Chib's reply is priceless: "So?" Stop and let that swirl around your brainpan for a moment. Juice is baffled because this is against the rules. Chibs asks what Juice's birth certificate says -- "Under race, which box is checked?" Juice says he's Hispanic. Chibs says with an air of finality, "Hispanic. Then that's what you are. Half of us don't know who the hell our fathers are. The paperwork is the only thing that counts." Juice tries pulling himself together. Chibs asks sympathetically, "This is why you tried offing yourself?" Then he begins laughing, "Jesus Christ, boy. You're an idiot. All of this is going to be okay. Listen to me: You tell that sheriff next time you see him, he can suck your daddy's big black cock. There's not a damn thing he can do to you." Juice's phone alarm rings and he claims he's got to take some antibiotics. Chibs tells him, "It's time you heal this, you understand? No more. No more, Juicey." Chibs tells him he loves him and then, because this is two men in leather hugging in a bathroom, he beats feet before someone passes him some poppers and a Bette Midler soundtrack. Once Juice in alone in the bathroom, he calls to check in.