We open with a slow pan up Bubbs, sitting on a park bench, in clean clothes, and with most of his facial sores at least on their way to healing. He's bathed in beatific light as he watches three girls scampering around, playing with bubbles. But not with Bubbles, who we see again, sitting on his bench, barely even looking creepy as a grown man hanging around a park for no apparent reason. He glances over as a knot of moms go by, chatting among themselves. Poor Bubbs actually seems tortured by the gorgeous sun of the day, until he glances toward the edge of the park and sees a guy scoring drugs of some sort. And then a guy we haven't seen before greets Bubbs by name as he walks by. Bubbs, all atwitter, looks from the wholesome scene of kids playing to the unsavory one of dudes buying dope, but -- with all his effort -- manages to listen to the angel on his shoulder and keep his butt parked.

"And then he dropped the bracelets..." -- Greggs. Yes, that David Copperfield does put on a good show, doesn't he?

At Orlando's, the bar is closed, but Wee-Bey's behind the bar, taking the blame for Omar's attempted murder of Avon. The fact that Wee-Bey has his visor on cockeyed sort of distracts from his sincerity in this declaration, since he looks like an overgrown toddler who might have a damn slingshot in his back pocket. Avon's not mad, though, and says that if Wee-Bey hadn't pulled up when he did, Avon would have been dead. Wee-Bey wants to know how they come back on Omar (though he uses a bad word in place of his Christian name), and Avon surprises this viewer by agreeing with Stringer that they should back off Omar for the time being. Wee-Bey crosses his arms and pouts, and Avon gives Stringer credit for taking a calmer position, finally. Stringer nods, and Avon turns to Wee-Bey to tell him he should put the word out that the Barksdalies are willing to "squash this, if he is." Wee-Bey, angrily flapping his hands, asks what happens if Omar isn't down with that plan. "No, this nigger live in the town, too," says Stringer. "He gonna listen, if we parley." Wee-Bey gets it: when Omar "crawl out of his hole--" "Boom," says Stringer.

Wee-Bey heads off to spread the word, and then Stringer turns the subject to the cops who were following Avon after the basketball game. Avon only saw two cars. Stringer lays out their situation: "See, if they on you, then they got a name. If they got a name, then they know you ain't got no license." "But they don't want no traffic charges, you know what I'm saying?" says Avon, accurately. "They don't want no humble shit." Though it would really be something if they could manage to lock Avon up on, like, a broken taillight. Avon says he thinks the cops were trying to see where he was going to go. "Where the fuck was you going to take their asses?" snorts Stringer, not unlike his soulmate McNulty. Avon, clowning: "I was taking them to the barbershop. For real! I was going to get a haircut." "Get a fade?" jokes Stringer. Avon shrugs, and Stringer kind of rubs his scalp, worrying that the cops are on them. Avon isn't worried about the cops -- and I probably wouldn't be either, if some other dude had just been shooting at me; at least the cops would give Avon a chance to surrender. Avon says they'll just have to be careful of the police. Stringer confirms that Avon hasn't been "talking on any phones," or touching drugs, and says that Avon won't be doing any money runs either; Stringer and Wee-Bey will take that over until things with the cops cool off. Avon seems to be down with that, until Stringer asks for his pager. "What's up, you serious?" asks Avon in shock. Stringer says, "I'm gonna get you a New York supply number only. That means when motherfucking local cats wanna talk to you, they gotta talk to me." Avon slides the pager over, and Stringer explains, "We gotta build a wall around you, B." You can tell they're really serious about this plan because they dap on it and everything.