Brothel. The Russian lady we saw earlier, dining out with The Greek and his Board Of Shadowy Figures, strides into a plush john holding pen, a smirk on her lips and her gauzy blouse wafting about. She is followed by several lovely ladies in various stages of undress, who array themselves behind a couch for McNulty's delectation. McNulty is either really playing his part or just can't resist flirting, because as soon as the first woman appears at the head (heh) of the line, he breaks into a grin, mirrored by all the options available to him. The madam prods him to make his choice...
...and in the surveillance van, we see Bunk and Daniels listen as McNulty fake-accents, "Would it be wrong to take two?" Bunk and Daniels shoot each other a look, Bunk crowing, "Attaboy." I hope they requisitioned enough petty cash to cover McNulty's sluttitude. On the street behind them, it would appear that the raid has already begun. Two uniformed officers hustle a dude into the back of a cop car while Kima crosses close to the camera, calling, "We should get upstairs." Daniels hops out of the van, ready to bust some hos.
Port. Koutris is on his cell phone, bitching, "Nothing but paint pigments." The Greek, on the other end of the line, chuckles, "Trust me, my friend. It's there." Koutris frowns and hangs up, and with everyone else on the dock standing about and not really paying attention, he picks up a chunk of pigment, scratches it with his thumbnail, and reveals that, for paint pigment, it's remarkably white on the inside. Pretty sneaky, sis. Looking up at how many more barrels of "pigment" are in the container, Koutris practically busts a nut.
Brothel. McNulty actually did pick two ladies -- a statuesque woman in white, and a shorter one with disproportionately giant boobies -- and now they've all repaired to a "fantasy suite." They're barely into the room before the two ladies -- murmuring to each other in unsubtitled...Something Slavic -- get straight down to business; the tall one sits him down on an ottoman at the end of the bed and starts undressing him while the short one climbs up behind him, whips off her negligée, and starts stroking his shoulders. "Any time you guys want," says McNulty, in his regular accent. That's not the safe word? Daniels radios, "The money changed hands, right?" "Sounded that way," says Kima. "And they talked about sex?" asks Daniels. Kima: "Definitely." Hell, McNulty probably talked about sex with the dude who sold him his newspaper this morning. Back in the room, it looks like the tall one might actually have initiated mouth-to-organ contact as McNulty sputters, "Any time you guys want!" To his (sort of) credit, McNulty tries to push his companions off himself, but they are too efficient to brook any such interference with their duties: the short one is unbuttoning his shirt while the tall one gives him a vigorous handjob. In the staging area, Kima squints as she tries to make out what's happening. Bunk: "Is it soup yet?" HA! Finally, McNulty gets a small amount of blood back to his head: "Spot something. Spot on it!" Daniels orders the troops to move out.
Upstairs, the cops meet up in the schmancy hallway. When they've stopped outside the door, one guy pulls out a battering ram (that's what she said), but Daniels stops him from using it. The cop -- who I think is the same guy who played Walker, that hard-on cop from Season 4 -- says that he was told to take the door quick and quiet, but Bunk drawls, "Calm the fuck down. It ain't like they gonna flush a half dozen whores down the toilet." Well, not unless you're willing to pay extra. Kima knocks emphatically -- but not destructively -- on the door with her radio. After a moment, the madam calls out, "Who is it?" Kima says it's Baltimore police. She asks what they want. Bunk: "To lock your ass up." No point being coy, I suppose. She unlocks the door, and the cops troop in. The madam and prostitutes all put their hands up, and Kima and Bunk proceed through, looking for more perps. They eventually find their way to McNulty, who's mostly naked (he still has his socks on, and his arms partly in his sleeves), and is getting his brains screwed out by the short one while the tall one pets his chest. In his defense, he is possibly trying to push her off, if his hand on her stomach is any indication. Seeing his colleagues in the doorway, McNulty gasps, "You're late." I think his girlfriends are hoping he's not early. OH! Out in the hall again, Daniels asks Bunk and Kima, "He okay?" "He'll live," mutters Bunk. He'll just do so with a chronic case of dread Kyrgmydia.