A spare room above Satriale's. Paulie and Silvio throw Ariel down on the floor; as he begs for mercy, Silvio tells him that it's too late, and that it's an awful lot he's going through just to avoid granting his wife divorce. "It's not that simple!" Ariel protests, but Paulie corrects him, "Why not? You sign your fuckin' name to a piece of paper." "I don't like you," Ariel tells him, in a display of atrociously misguided bravery. Paulie starts to bitch him out, but Ariel wants to know what he gets out of it: "Do you work for nothing? I don't think so!" Ariel rants about how he sent his wife to Israel, he paid for her plastic surgery, he fed her, he clothed her, he put a roof over her head and tolerated working for her father for twenty years, "and for this I should walk away without a nickel?" Paulie yanks him up off the floor and snaps, "Tough fuckin' luck, ain't it, pal," and starts whaling on him, but Ariel struggles and thrashes about, and Silvio has to clunk him in the back with, well, one of those weighted clunking-in-the-back things in order to subdue him. "He's a bull," says Paulie, breathing heavily. Silvio looks at Ariel's prone body and says that if they don't kill him, "we should put him to work."

Tony comes into a bedroom with a Russian bimbette slung over his shoulder. She makes a big show of giggling and generally liking him for something other than his bankroll as he flings her down on the bed and tells her that "time's a-wasting," and that he's lucky he could get out of the house at all, what with "that party tonight." He's started kissing his way down her stomach when the phone rings. "Shit!" It's Silvio, apologizing for bothering him and reporting that "this thing isn't working out the way [they'd] hoped" with Ariel. As Russian Bimbette tickles Tony's ear, Tony tells him not to say anymore on the phone, he's coming down, and he hangs up and starts to throw on a bathrobe and slippers and tells RB that he has to go. "But you just gotten here," she pouts, and she harangues him in Russian as he repeats that he knows, but he still has to go. Suddenly, Tony pauses mid-dress and stares at a painting on RB's wall; she turns to follow his gaze, and he asks, "What's that painting mean to you?" RB shrugs, "Not'ing -- it just reminds me of David Hockey [sic]." Heh.