D'Angelo and Donette arrive at a nice restaurant. You can tell they're ready for a fancy evening, because she's in her red faux-fur coat, and has on her most elegant acrylic nails. D'Angelo tentatively approaches the maître d' and asks for a table. They don't have a reservation -- D'Angelo haltingly says he thought they could just walk in -- and the maître d' says he'll see what he can find. He checks the book, and then seats them at a perfectly acceptable table -- not near the bathroom or the kitchen or anything, as far as I can see (though, since it's all fancy, the lighting is low). D'Angelo points to another table, asking if they can have it instead, but the maître d' says that it's for patrons with reservations. He then takes Donette's coat and pulls out her chair for her, as D'Angelo looks on warily. He tries to do the same for D'Angelo, who waves him off uncomfortably. The maître d' then hands them each a menu and moves off. As she glances at the menu, Donette huffs at D'Angelo that he should have "pushed him" -- like the maître d' was going to shit a brick at the thought of the whole Barksdale gang coming down on him for giving Avon's nephew a sub-par table. D'Angelo glares back contemptuously, but then, as if to make Donette's point, a busboy wanders by with water, bumping D'Angelo in the elbow. Y'all, let this be a lesson to you to make a reservation! It hardly takes any time at all. And if you call from the pay phone in the low-rises, it will really confuse Lester.

Cut back to McNulty, now quite well lubricated as he opens the flat Ikea packages in preparation to assemble their contents. Normally I'd say this was a bad idea, but given that the only tool required is an Allen key -- and not, say, a circular saw -- the damage he could actually inflict is probably minimal. He studies the instructions a moment. He spreads out all the pieces and tries to fit them together. He tosses them across the room in frustration. Ray Charles? Not surprised by that one either.