I would like to announce here and now that, like any good writer, I researched what "lagniappe" meant before it got explained.
Lagniappe derives from New World Spanish la ñapa, "the gift," and perhaps ultimately from Quechua yapay, "to give more." The word came into the rich Creole dialect mixture of New Orleans and there acquired a French spelling. It is still used chiefly in Southern Louisiana to denote a little bonus that a friendly shopkeeper might add to a purchase. By extension, it may mean "an extra or unexpected gift or benefit."
Okay? Yes, I want a cookie. Thanks.
Scenes from past episodes, culminating in Kimble getting shot just above the heart by Vasick in the last episode.
Blue map -- with what looks like a NASDAQ ticker underneath -- pinpoints Kimble's newest location in New Orleans. A riverboat named "Creole Queen" rolls by, and suddenly we are on a set that looks suspiciously akin to Bourbon Street. Kimble is amblin' down the street. Hey, Doc, if you run into David, can you tell him I said, "Woo woo?" Kisses. We all get a brief moment of fear when someone calls out, "Richard!" but (sigh) he meant someone else. Kimble checks into yet another fleabag hovel of a motel; this one is called "Hotel Cadeaux." There's a nip at my ankle, and I look down to see Overarching Plot Metaphor gnawing calmly on my socks. Geddit? Cadeaux is French for "gifts." The old Creole man at the front desk takes in Kimble's tight shirt and pecs and notes, "If you have a companion, the rate is doubled." Kimble mutters that he's alone. Always alone. Doomed to walk the earth as a solitary figure with no one to love. He took the path less walked upon. Let the maudlin strings of a one-eyed street violinist with scabies play on. Kimble locks himself in his room and stares out the window briefly and meaningfully before unwrapping a photocopy of a death certificate. Black-and-white flashback to Kimble learning that One Arm is a man named Charnquist who died of an overdose and was buried in New Orleans. Everyone together now: Ohhhhhh.
Kimble visits a hospital and requests the medical records of one Benjamin Charnquist. He tells the scrubs-clad receptionist that he's Charnquist's brother. The nurse waves him to some locale behind her and tells him he'll be required to produce proof of kinship. Kimble fills out a form while watching the movements of hospital personnel. He's particularly interested in a basket of ID tags. He snatches one and makes off with it. Luckily, there's a mall photo-booth nearby that takes the exact size photos necessary for Kimble to falsify the hospital ID I mean, it's a good thing the hospital doesn't use those new-fangled computer-generated photos that seem to be catching on like wildfire all over the world.
As Kimble waits for the rubber cement (Is he a pro or what? Rubber cement makes for some good fake boogers to throw at any unsuspecting little sister that happens to be nearby. Not that I'd know.) to dry on his new ID, sounds of a hallway scuffle penetrate his flimsy door. The proprietor of the Hotel Gift is wrassling with another man, who seems to be in possession of a broken bottle. They both come crashing through Kimble's door, and he jumps up and says, "Hey!" Kimble grabs the attacker's arm but is flung to the ground. Ineffectual as a gnat, I tell you. The attacker rams the broken bottle into the hotel proprietor's arm. "Ouch!" says Mr. Proprietor indignantly. The attacker backs away and imitates Bill and Ted as he says, "Whoa!" "I'm bleedin'!" says Mr. Proprietor, sounding slightly annoyed. The attacker looks a bit chastened as he backs out the destroyed door: "Hey, I'm real sorry Tom. I'll see you around." He bolts. Okay. Weird scene. Kimble makes a move to staunch the blood with a towel. "You know that man?" Tom the Proprietor tells him, "The man's my brother-in-law," then asks Kimble to get mercurochrome and bandages from behind his desk. I guess the mercurochrome reference serves to further hammer in the idea that we are dealing with people who are out of touch with the modern world? Of course, since Dr. Kimble is on the scene, the wound is going to be too deep for simple mercurochrome and bandages. Sure enough, Dr. Kimble tells Tom his wound is too deep and he's going to need stitches. Tom admits to feeling a bit woozy and tells Kimble if he helps him to his doctor's, he will owe him a little lanyards. Yes, "lanyards" is what I thought he said when I first saw it. It wasn't until later that I realized he said lagniappe. Smooth jazz writers, slipping the first reference in like that.