It's the Tommy Carcetti Ebony & Ivory World Reconciliation Tour. First stop: The office of Congressman Upshaw, where Carcetti is vowing that he meant no offense by any word or deed -- certainly not enough to merit backing an opposition candidate, since that only hurts everyone. "You mean hurt you," Upshaw clarifies. Well, yes -- but if the world revolves around Carcetti, and Carcetti is hurt, doesn't that in turn hurt the world? Nevertheless, Carcetti appeals to Upshaw's party loyalty: shouldn't we let bygones be bygones for the sake of driving the incumbent GOP governor into the sea? Well, Thomas Carcetti is the man to ensure that the road to Annapolis is paved with Republican bones, and once he's sipped inaugural champagne from the hollowed-out skull of his opponent, then Carcetti promises to shower Prince George's County with the love and state funding it so richly deserves. "I know you've heard this before from every other son of a bitch," Carcetti says, "but, Congressman, I give you my word." Why, yes, the congressman has heard that one before. And here's something Carcetti's probably heard before: if he wants Upshaw's support, Carcetti had best be prepared to pay up.

McNulty returns from a long day of hearing the FBI inadvertently explain what a mess he is and finds an empty house waiting for him, with no sign of Beadie or her kids. There is, however, a note: "Gone to an Oscar after-party where I'm gonna cut Tilda Swinton a new smile." No, no -- that's a joke. Please don't write. They're both lovely actresses. What the letter actually says is: "Our possible future. Be back tomorrow or the next day. Or not. Think about it." There's also this postscript: "Michael Clayton? Seriously?" Again, that last part was just made up. Let's just pretend you sent the angry letters to me, and I found them devastating, and we'll move on.