Otto and Lenny have a little meeting in the infirmary, and the upshot is that the Russians aren't exactly huge fans of the Irish, so they'll happily hand Jimmy O over -- for the right price. It's on SAMCRO to meet that price. Lenny says he'll get the figure from his friends in the yard, then pass it on to all the interested parties via the SAMCRO raft of attorneys.
On the outside: Unser's looking at the San Joaquin Tribune, where "local hero" David Hale's mayoral run has earned an above-the-fold, four-column layout. This is why newspapers are dying. Unser voices a similar opinion ("What a crock of shit") but before he can continue his trenchant media criticism, Clay's walked in and demanded to see Gemma. As with the hospital, so does the police station need a SAMCRO lounge, since its members are in and out often enough.
Clay and Gemma then have a tense conversation that can summed up in the following sentences:
CLAY: What in the blue hell were you thinking? GEMMA: I don't have to tell you. Just promise me you won't kill my boy when you find out he's a rat for the Feds. CLAY: I have no idea what you're going on about. Can I just find a murderous Irishman and kill him already? My pre-incarceration to-do list is not getting any shorter while I sit in here with you.