At the cop shop (the big one, downtown), McNulty wanders into Homicide with a folder under his arm, passing the office assistant with the spectacular bouffant; as soon as he sees McNulty, Jay coos that there's something in there McNulty needs to kiss. But he's not content just to hint at it -- no, he drops trou and gotch and flashes McNulty (and all of his) his bare ass, complete with a red patch in the middle to show he's been sitting for a while. That's a red eye Visine can't help. McNulty laughs him off, but Jay is still gloating, saying that now they know why he wears "the stripes in the family." As Jay puts his kit back on, McNulty comes in for a visit, reminding Jay that if Keeley hadn't fucked up the scene, Jay could have cleared the case months ago. "Let Keeley be Keeley," says Jay. "We all can't be princes of the city, now, can we?" McNulty makes to leave, but Jay calls him back: "Speaking of which, sit down." McNulty complies, and Jay starts, "May I ask you a question that is essential to your career?...Who [sic] do you serve?" McNulty glances around, knowing it's a trick question, but not knowing what Jay's getting at, so Jay explains that he's asking McNulty to identify his commanding officer. "Major Rawls," says McNulty. "Excellent," says Jay. Long (Jayesque) story short, McNulty is advised to take the break in Diedre's murder in to Rawls and kiss up: "I have talked you right out of the shithouse." McNulty is dubious, but Jay proudly catches him up. McNulty nods, and thanks Jay, but not very sincerely.

Back at the Pit, Wallace is in his usual position at the corner of a building, commiserating with a nameless girl (let's call her Campanula) that if you work, you're supposed to get paid; he resolves that he's going to say something about it. At this moment, D'Angelo rollsup, and everyone else takes off so they're not around for the inevitable scrap that's totally, totally about to go down. Poot trudges off, looking back over his shoulder as D'Angelo stops in front of Wallace, who hands over $530, telling him the count is right. D'Angelo tells him to get ready for the re-up, but as he makes to go, Wallace actually does stop him with a hand on the arm. As Poot shambles around within eavesdropping distance, Wallace launches in: "You know, me and Poot, we been steady working it, you know? Nothing sloppy, no troubles, right? And we was wondering if maybe you could let a little something go? Until payday? 'Cause you know, right now, we some broke-ass niggas, man." D'Angelo glances over at Poot, who is studiously ignoring all of this, and then pats Wallace on the shoulder, moving on without a word. Shoulder pats don't buy soda, yo.