In any event, Tara owns it: she's smart. She concludes, "Here's something else that might sound familiar. Don't ever try to hurt me or my family again." Gemma leans in and sasses, "Or what, doctor? You gonna kill me?" Tara goes eyelash to eyelash with Gemma and replies, "No. But my husband might." Gemma shifts back and watches Tara take off. She looks rattled. Which is, of course, when her phone rings and it's Carla, delivering the news that Juice and Clay have just strolled into the Best Little Cathouse In Charming.
After Gemma hangs up, Carla turns on the charm and comes out from behind the counter to ask if these two Sons are ditching a warrant as well. Clay says they're just there to look around and asks if Carla minds. Nero -- who is wearing a grandpa sweater and a necklace made of hickeys -- strolls over to say that everything's cool. He and Clay introduce themselves, and Carla says meaningfully, "This is Gemma's old man." Oh, Nero is going to be in so much trouble during employee evaluations. Clay does not miss Nero's latest accessory and says, "I'm guessing you're the new one." Now would be a fine time for Nero to confess to commitment issues, but instead he asks that Clay kindly keep his relationship issues outside the Best Little Cathouse In Charming. Juice gives a bright, nervous smile and says cheerily, "Aaaaaaaaand we should go!" Clay mutters, "I'm just getting comfortable." Juice rolls his eyes all, Surrogate Dad, you are EMBARRASSING me so much!
Oh, but the embarrassment has just begun, because Clay has zoned in on Emma, and Nero -- casting a skeptical eye at the oxygen tank -- asks, "You really think that's a good idea?" Behind Clay, Juice is looking haunted. Clay pulls the aging-lion-in-winter act: "I'm just a wounded guy in need of a little comfort." Then buy some shearling slippers. Juice says, "Come on, Clay." Clay: "Shut up." Juice: "Okay." Nero rolls his eyes as Clay walks over to Emma, then walks off. Carla sidles up to Juice and purrs, "Come on, baby. It's time to graduate." Juice grins, "Really?' "Really," Carla affirms. She takes his hand to walk him back for an aromatherapy session, and Nero asks tetchily, "What are you doing?" "You think you're the only one who gets to play with white trash?" Carla ripostes. Juice clarifies, "Actually, I'm Puerto Rican --" "Stop talking, honey," Carla says. "Okay," Juice replies, in a rare moment of keen strategy.
Back in the jail, Sergeant Jackball comes in to press the question: "Which guy goes?" "We're still working it out," Opie drawls. "Want to make sure we cover the spread," Jax adds. Sergeant Jackball whacks him in the knee with a nightstick, which would seem to queer the betting pool, but what do I know from wagers on blood sports? Opie gets up to defend his bestie and Sergeant Jackball's gun is instantly in his hand: "Bad idea." Sergeant Jackball then demonstrates why his death will merit the Stahl treatment later in the series by gloating, "This is my hell, bitch. I make the rules. If you don't pick which guy fights, I will."