Cop shop. Carver has just finished running the table, and as Bodie hands over the money Carver's won from him, Herc hisses at him to be a bit sly so the duty officer can't see. Carver suggests that Bodie stop, since he's down $60, but Bodie doesn't care: "That might be your whole damn salary, but I clock that shit in minutes." He tells Carver to rack the balls for another game, but just then, a uniformed cop walks in to say that the intake duty consultant is in the squad room. He just got there? It's totally light out! What happened to midnight? That intake duty consultant has a pretty messed-up idea of duty. All three nighttime pool buddies look a bit sad that their time together has come to an end, and Bodie mumbles that if he had more time, he'd "run" Carver. Herc throws the cuffs to Herc, who puts them on Bodie while advising, "You gonna run a hustle, best stay with what you know." Bodie can't just let them have any nice memories of their sleepover party, and spits (not literally, for once), "Man, fuck you and your tired-ass advice, all right?" Herc advances on Bodie as Carver watches the door, but Bodie decides to back down (perhaps now that he's cuffed), admitting that the sandwich they got him was good. Herc shrugs, and the two exit, friends, as Carver racks the balls again, thinking that the night might have gone even better if, instead of a pool table, they had a basketball hoop.
Upstairs at Orlando's, Avon and Stringer are telling Stinkum that they're moving "their thing" to Edmondson Avenue, and taking the gully. Ah -- new territory. Okay. Stinkum asks about Scar, and Avon jokes, "Who?" Stringer chuckles. Avon's giving Stinkum points on the package: "So you make a go of it, you hear me? You working for yourself, too, so you're gonna put out the strong product, and you're gonna get the locals behind it." Avon dismisses him: "We gonna make this money run in a few." Stinkum makes to leave -- the only time he's spoken is to ask about Scar -- and Stringer prods, "Smile or something, nigga." Dude, for real: how hard is it to say "thank you"? Stinkum's all flustered and still doesn't say anything, and as soon as he's gone, Stringer comments that Avon "made that nigga's night." Avon says that Stinkum deserved it. His pager goes off, and he checks it: "It's Wee-Bey. We got one." Stringer asks if he thinks it's Omar, but Avon doesn't: "It's one of the young'uns, I think." "One down, two to go, right?" says Stringer. Yeah, there's no way Omar could possibly line up any more personnel. Keep thinking that! Avon taunts the absent Omar a little, and then Stringer leaves, and Avon gets out a plastic bag and takes it to a safe, which he opens; he then starts loading the bag with wads of cash. Downstairs, Stringer and Stinkum cover Avon as he takes the bag into a car waiting in the alley. It's not the most secure cash handoff I've ever seen, but I bet there are a lot fewer people who'd try to rip Avon off than who'd make a run at, say, an armored car.