McNulty drinks in his car, in the rain. I don't blame him not wanting to go home to his depressing apartment.

Back at the Terrace, a dealer plies his trade while leaning on the ruined car. In fact, drug deals are going down everywhere.

In the Pit, Poot and three other guys I don't recognize slumber on the couch. Bodie appears and curses to himself over the poor quality of personnel he's attracting to this detail.

McNulty drunkenly rouses himself from his car -- so we can see that he's apparently parked, like, on a bike path in a park -- to bellow at a couple of youths trying to either break into or vandalize a car parked (properly) at the bottom of a little slope. He's a bit too drunk to do so with much authority, though, and as he pulls out his badge to announce himself, he loses his footing on the hill and slides down a few feet. It's not his proudest moment, really. And soon enough, the punks trigger the car alarm and take off running. McNulty picks up his badge from the dirt and starts laughing at himself.

Daniels is reading in bed -- in kind of incongruous checked pyjamas (would have figured him for a tank top, or at least a crisp white t-shirt) -- when the phone rings. Whatever he hears, it isn't good news, and he throws back the covers to get out of bed. Marla asks who it was, and Daniels tells her it was the duty officer at the hospital; the kid is blind in one eye. Hey, which eye?