A Baltimore sheriff does a crossword puzzle (apparently without much success, if the feverish erasing is anything to go by). In front of him sits Omar, in a baseball-style felt jacket, and after a moment, he comments, "Ain't working out for y'all, huh?" "Mars is the god of war, right?" mopes Sheriff Pink Pearl. "Planet, too," says Omar. Sheriff Pink Pearl knows it's a planet, but the clue is "Greek god of war." Omar smirks: "'Ares.'" Sheriff Pink Pearl looks up quizzically, like this is entirely new news to him, and then says that "Ares" fits, and warmly thanks Omar. Hee. A good tip is a good tip, no matter whom it comes from. Omar says that he used to love mythology when he was in school. After a moment, another officer comes to the door and tells Omar, "You're up." Omar stands -- in his usual get-up, not at all the sort of thing he was browsing for with McNulty -- produces a light-coloured paisley tie from a pocket, and loops it around his neck. Hey, a Baltimore knot! Also, that tie is far too ugly to be worth $150.
In the courtroom, Omar is called to the stand, shooting a jaunty finger-gun at Stringer as he strides up the aisle. "Faggot," mutters Stringer. Ooh, good one. Omar wags his tie at Nathan, who doesn't look impressed by this concession; even Judge Phelan looks dubious, and he's more ready to dig into this case than practically anyone other than McNulty. A clerk swears Omar in, and he sits. Nathan asks his name for the record, and trivia buffs learn that Omar's middle name is "Devon." She asks how old he is, and he shrugs that he's "about twenty-nine, thereabout." Nathan asks his occupation. Omar looks at her blankly: "'Occupation'?" She means what he does for a living. "I rip and run," he says proudly. Phelan looks worriedly from Omar to Nathan. She has no idea what that means, so Omar elaborates: "I robs drug dealers." The jurors start giggling. Squinting dubiously (at her own witness, which...not the greatest tactic, not that I went to law school or anything), Nathan asks how long he's been doing it; Omar doesn't know, but guesses eight or nine years. Nathan asks how a man could rob drug dealers for that long and "live to tell about it." Omar snickers, and shifts back and forth in his seat: "Day at a time, I suppose!" When you look at it that way, the giant scar on Omar's face is a mark of victory.