Nick goes into the bar, all pissed off after his encounter with Ziggy, and takes a stool at the bar. Everyone seems kind of subdued, and when Nick asks Dolores, "What's up with my cousin?," she snaps, "Don't even talk to me about that asshole." They should cross-stitch that on a sampler and hang it behind the bar. Anyway, Dolores motions with her chin, and Nick looks over at the pool table, where the duck is lying, obviously dead. And no one...has bothered to take it out somewhere. And I don't even mean to give it a proper burial, necessarily, but...at least put it in a plastic bag and take it out back to the Dumpster; that thing's going to start attracting flies! It's a health hazard! The old dude at the bar tells Nick that the duck drank itself to death. Nat asks rhetorically what kind of fool would give a duck whiskey, anyway, and the old-timer crabs, "That boy ain't right." La La says that the duck "couldn't hold liquor for shit." Sure, but I'd like to see how good any of the longshoremen is at diving for leaves with its beak.
Detail office, the next (I assume) morning. "'La-Z-Boys'?" asks Kima curiously. "And davinas," says Lester. "Male and female." "Dope and coke," says Bunk helpfully, for Beadie's (and my) benefit. Herc's never heard of a davina (which I haven't either, but where I'm from, a three-seater couch might be called a "chesterfield," of all damn things), and Beadie says that it's kind of like a love seat. The camera takes a moment to show Herc giving Beadie another frank appraising look as Daniels asks about weight, and Lester reports, "All whole numbers." "No halves, quarters, eight-balls?" asks Kima. Lester shakes his head. "Ounces?" asks Prez. Lester shakes his head some more. Kima impatiently asks what kind of numbers they're putting on the alleged furniture, and Lester replies, "Nothing much above five." Kima comments that Prop Joe has control of the territory from Ashland to North: "Ten corners, easy. Five ounces wouldn't last him past lunch." Of course, for Prop Joe, lunch probably comes at 9:30 AM. "It's kilos," says Daniels flatly. "We're on the main stem." Lester and Kima share a gratified smile as Daniels asks what was up at the warehouse the previous night, and Carver says that there weren't any trucks, and just a few cars in and out, "but none of the drug players we saw rolling up there before." Kima surmises that whatever was in the last truckload went out of the warehouse in car trunks: "They're doing their distribution somewheres else for now." Daniels says that's exactly why they need to get on another "good phone," and Rhonda says that the same probable cause that got them on the original phone will also work for any other line they might want. "All we need is the new number," says Lester. Daniels asks whether they know of Verizon running any new lines into Pyramid lately, which seems like a dumb question in the age of the cellular telephone -- which is the same conclusion Daniels himself reaches (minus the "dumb question" part) when Prez tells him they checked, and there aren't any new land lines. Lester muses that they should get Sergei's new cell number. I assume that this involves an elaborate scheme putting Carver in drag to coo at Sergei and maybe drop a handkerchief in order to get him to volunteer his number -- it always worked for Bugs Bunny! Anyway, Daniels orders Lester and Prez, and Bunk and Beadie, to take turns on shift in the wiretap room; Herc and Carver are back on the Newkirk Street squat, at which they shake their heads bitterly but keep their bitching to themselves, for now; Kima and McNulty are still on whore duty, but since McNulty crapped out the previous night, Daniels says, "We're gonna need a new angle there." Perhaps McNulty could try again when he's been fortified with Jameson's and therefore better at improvising in his pursuit of access to Ladytown?