Mayor: "I am out of here. Good luck sleeping tonight!"
Cuddled up like a big old bear with his cubs all around him, exactly where they should have been the last twenty-three days, Stan's awakened by a phone call. The fact that the ringtone is the freakiest part of "Moonlight Sonata" alerts you to the fact that, though it's taken almost 70% of the entire season -- plus one truly horrible young lady and a very sexy might-have-been -- it's about time for Mitch to call her husband up and bum him out yet again.
Mitch: "Why do we have so many secrets all the time? It's one land-mine or red herring or secret connection after another with us!"
Stan: "Is this about Rosie?"
Mitch: "Everything always all the time is about Rosie. Here's the update, she visited David Rainer a few weeks ago and told him she was going to leave and go to LA. Isn't that bananas?"
Stan: "Rosie Larsen just keeps finding new ways to fuck us."
America: "Heard that."
I get why Mitch is freaked out by this factoid, and why Stan doesn't want to talk about it -- or really, to Mitch at all -- but it's still so sad because she's bargaining. She's doing it in the weirdest way, but that's what it is: Rosie left, and Rosie keeps leaving, and Rosie never once said goodbye. It's a softer landing to be the mother of the tattooed runaway girl right now, to mourn the fact of her runaway daughter, than it is to be the mother of the dead girl.
You can hate a runaway. You can ask yourself what you did, how you caused it. You can see her there on the horizon, all alone with her questions, out on the rooftop smoking stolen cigarettes. Because a runaway that hates you is still better than a dead girl that doesn't.
Linden: "Mary is not in the appointed place. She is too scared to help us."
Holder: "Then we're screwed."
Linden: "Not yet, we are not. Stay here."
Holder tells her he'll go in her stead, if she's storming the place, but she leaves him behind in the rain. How scared she must be, walking through the slot machines, breaking eye contact with the security guys; how proud she must be when Holder stumbles drunkenly into the middle of everything. Making a fool of himself, most wonderfully: "Ain't no party without no trim!" he shouts at the security guards, begging for a hooker. Speaking nonsense to them all, asking for his stolen phone, giggling in Roberta's face, shouting to the crowd about the beating they gave him, showing off his bruised and broken ribs. He flicks a cigarette in Roberta's face. He is incandescent.