In the open area, Herc is perusing a Club as he asks Carver if the sergeant's exam is the next day. Carver, working, exposits that it's at 4 PM: "You ain't going to take it this time?" "Sure, why not?" says Herc, turning a page. "You ain't going to study?" asks Carver, amused. "Sure I am," says Herc. Dude, it's a cop exam; your study aid would probably be more useful if you were trying to be a gynecologist. Prez appears and tells Herc and Carver, "You guys need to follow some of the boys out of the Pit and see what they're using for pay phones." Carver instantly goes on the defensive: "Excuse me, is that a direct order?" Yeah, Prez, you should have gotten Lester to make this suggestion; he may not outrank anyone, but the desire to avoid a glare over his glasses is a powerful motivator. Prez tries to back off from his bossy tone, but Herc interrupts to ask why Prez doesn't follow them himself. "I'm in-office, remember?" says Prez sadly. "Right, they took your gun!" says Carver sarcastically. "For shooting your car," Herc recalls. "No, that was before," says Carver. They go back and forth like this for a while, breaking Prez's balls until he wanders off. "You believe this guy?" spits Carver once Prez has gone. "Like there are fucking stripes on his sleeve." They get back to their porn and paperwork, but not for long. "You guys need to get up on those rooftops today," announces Kima. "See what these mopes are using for phones." Heh. Even if Kima had balls for them to break, I doubt they'd get very far trying.
Stinkum, Wee-Bey, and Savino bust into Omar's bedroom, guns drawn. Finding it empty, they start rifling through his stuff -- going through drawers, turning over his mattress. Wee-Bey finds a few Polaroids -- a couple of shots of Brandon, and one of Omar and Brandon together, in happier times, that's quite moving in its simple composition and banal familiarity -- and cracks up, calling his buddies over to join in the sociopathic, homophobic fun.
Elsewhere, Omar sits beside a window in an apartment crowded with furniture, cradling a baby in his arms. We see across the lots from his perspective as Stinkum, Savino, and Wee-Bey pop out the back of his old squat, joking. "Mister Omar?" comes a voice from the apartment. We cut over to see Shirley, shooting up with her arm on a table covered in baby paraphernalia."You want ends on this?" she asks. A good hostess always makes sure her guests have everything they need. Omar declines, and watches as Stinkum sets his van on fire.