McNulty opens the sliding patio doors and goes outside, his gun drawn, Bunk at his heels. Approaching the kitchen window, he takes aim at the spot Bunk had circled on the glass inside: Tap, tap, tap. "Pow." Over his shoulder, Bunk passes the end of the measuring tape, and walks backwards, measuring the distance to the other side of a little fence there. Bunk and McNulty both crouch down and start rifling through the grass; even the super gets in on it, kicking the ground a little with his toe. After a moment, Bunk chuckles, and comes up with a shell casing. McNulty smiles. The super looks impressed. MAN that was a lot of recapping for a nearly silent scene!

Near the Towers, Kima is sitting on the hood of her car, laying out the plan of attack for Herc, Carver, and Sydnor. "Again I get the shit detail?" Carver crabs. "The plan is to stay on D'Angelo," she replies. "If we lose him, we lose him, right?" In other words, don't try too hard. Sydnor, back in his junkie drag, confidently says, "Oh, we're gonna lose him. You can't follow people in them Towers. You can't hang in the low-rises unless you got a reason." Herc is still not getting it: "We want to lose him, right? Losing him is good?" Kima smirks, and Carver closes his eyes and prays for patience as he replies, "Right." "Then why the fuck do this?" spits Herc. Procedure, motherfucker, ever heard of it? No wonder you keep failing the sergeant's exam. Kima implores him to roll with her on this one. Herc thinks some more about how hard done by he is.

McNulty returns to the detail office, dragging his knapsack, and tells Lester, "So you're police after all." Lester is working on a dollhouse desk and doesn't acknowledge McNulty as he goes on: "You know whatyou're doing, but you ain't been doing it. How long you been in the pawn shop unit?" "Thirteen years and four months," says Lester quietly. "Thirteen years?" McNulty repeats. "And four months," says Lester. McNulty sets down his bag and says, "I gotta ask you, what exactly does a police officer assigned to the pawn shop unit do?" Lester says, "You intake reports from registered pawn shops on all items valued over $50. Then you make an index card for that item. Then you file that index card. If someone wants to find out if something stolen has been pawned, we look to see if we have an index card. If we do, we do. If we don't, we don't." Augh, that sounds worse than trying to get a giant desk through a doorway. McNulty marvels, "You did that for thirteen years?" "And four months," says Lester. Boy, that's how you can tell when someone loves his job -- when he can count down how long he's been doing it to the month. McNulty: "Why'd you ask out of Homicide?" "Wasn't no ask about it," says Lester. McNulty guesses that Lester got the boot, and Lester mutters a confirmation. McNulty, perhaps looking for tips, asks what Lester did to piss them off. "Police work," says Lester, plainly not enjoying the conversation. "I think I need to buy you a drink," grins McNulty, recognizing a kindred spirit. "Just one?" says Lester, looking over his glasses. LESTER IS RAD.