Detail office. We start out on the bulletin board, where Lester's pinning up new cards as he intones, "We're finding a lot of stuff on the west side of downtown that might be his, over by that Howard Street corridor...Low-rent commercials. A lot of vacants." McNulty asks what Avon would want with "a string of empty storefronts." Daniels, lurking in a doorway, quietly says, "This feels premature." "What does?" asks Lester, turning around. "Chasing up assets," says Daniels. "We're not close to putting a charge to the man. That should be the priority." Thanks for your insight, Burrell. McNulty: "We put a charge to Avon Barksdale, the Deputy shuts us down, tells us to go home." "You want the money side of this case -- it's now or never, Lieutenant," Lester agrees. And then in come Carver and Herc, literally whooping in victory, and throw the bag of cash onto the table. "Hey, I'm working here," whines Prez, who's apparently just given up on the idea of making friends with the cool kids. Herc reports that they recovered "maybe twenty or thirty -- you should've seen the looks on their faces." Even Daniels looks a tiny bit pleased. Kima asks what Wee-Bey said. "'What money?'" Carver reports. Herc says the only problem is that they have to sit there and count it. "And it's all limp-dick, dime-vial money," adds Carver. As they start unbundling the money, McNulty asks whether they got photos of the Pit boys on the new pay phone. Herc says they did, and McNulty exposits that they'll need another affidavit to get a tap on that phone. "Another thirty days, McNulty?" snaps Daniels, in a tone that suggests he had other plans for the coming month, and slams his office door. Once he's gone, McNulty complains, "One day he fights, the next day he's ready to roll over. Does he want this fucking case or not?" Lester tells McNulty to cut Daniels some slack, probably because he, more than anyone else there, is sympathetic to Daniels's unwillingness to turn the detail into more of a Sisyphean assignment than it already is. Carver, for his part, glances about for his lucky pen. And lord knows he could use the luck.

Omar walks up a dark alley, sets down his McDonald's dinner and a sixpack of Mountain Dew on a stoop, and feels up the doorjamb for the wad of gum left there to let him back in.

Inside, Omar heads upstairs, turns on the light in a bedroom, and sits on the bed, pondering his next move. Real estate license?