Out in the open area, we see a pair of shapely ankles in four-inch heels, tied together with a long piece of string, slowly pacing off a length of floor. Lord, I hope that's Shardene. As Herc watches her coming back, practically chewing through his tape measure, Ronnie briskly leaves Daniels's office only to land smack in the middle of Low-Budget S&M Theatre, and gives Herc a suspicious glare before deciding she's better off not knowing about this business, too.

Poot and Bodie eat lunch in a bright fast-food joint with Wallace, who's reminiscing about a place his mother used to take him, called Fruit Fantasy. Poot thinks they served orange soda there, but Wallace corrects him: "These shits was fresh. My mom used to put mad Bacardi in hers, though." Augh, how awful. At least if she'd drunk vodka, the other bad moms couldn't have smelled it on her breath. "Wasn't much she didn't pour it into," comments Poot, but Bodie scolds Wallace for merely talking about his mother, like "a kid," as though Bodie's a grizzled old veteran or something. Wallace complains, "I got to thinkin' on her! Your ass ain't got to be hard all the goddamn time, neither." Poot, because he knows things now, sighs sadly, and Bodie spits, "Soft link break the chain." He aggressively asks if Wallace is a boy or a man, and Wallace firmly says that he's a man, though as the camera lingers on him, it really doesn't look like this "man" has had a lot of call to do much shaving to this point in his life. He impatiently asks if they're going to go have some fun, and takes off. Poot, his chili dog untouched, sighs again. He definitely won't be having fun, apparently.

Outside Orlando's, Shardene tip-taps up to a parked van...

...where, inside, she goes over the plans with Lester, pointing out where the office is and reporting on all the distances she marked off pacing. Lester points to another set of plans, saying that the third floor of that location is vacant: "Otherwise, we'd need a warrant." Oh, those nasty old things.

Poot, Wallace, and Bodie climb out of a gypsy cab, next to a boarded-up abandoned building.

Orlando's neighbour. Herc starts fucking around with a big drill, and Lester tells him to keep it down, expositing that it's 2:30 AM. Herc goes to work on the wall, Lester reminding him that the hole need only be as big as a finger, though not as big as Herc's own sausage-like digits. Herc pauses in his work long enough to make a dumb joke ("You know what big hands mean"), repeating it when neither Lester nor Daniels acknowledges his stripy ass. McNulty hurries in at this moment, breathlessly reporting that they've found a fresh address for Wallace's mother, and Lester assures Daniels that they'll be okay without him. Daniels grabs his jacket and takes off with McNulty, as Herc continues to drill. To make a joke pitched at Herc's level of humour: he's drilling a lot longer than I would have guessed he could.