By the light of a single desk lamp, Kima continues pecking away at her inadequate typewriter. I hope Herc and Carver at least went and got her a salad and a Frosty before they ditched her.

Having been through exit processing, D'Angelo chats with Wee-Bey, who's pulled chauffeur duty. D'Angelo is saying that jail is full of "niggers" "beefin'," but that he had no problem there himself: "We deep in there." After a moment for Wee-Bey's cell phone to ring, D'Angelo appreciatively comments that the Barksdale crew is "deep" at the courthouse too, and that D'Angelo was freaking out in there, not knowing what would happen. Wee-Bey doesn't respond, so D'Angelo starts giggling that what they did with the "security lady" was "tight, yo." Wee-Bey pointedly turns the stereo way up, until he can pull over and tell D'Angelo, "Let's walk." They get out of the SUV and stand on the sidewalk, where Wee-Bey asks D'Angelo, "What's the rule?" "I know the rule," D'Angelo replies. "Say it," Wee-Bey tells him. "Don't talk in the car," D'Angelo recites. "Or on the phone, or in any place that ain't ours, and don't say shit to anybody who ain't us. But it was just you, yo! It's your fucking truck!" Wee-Bey paces silently, and after a brief moment, D'Angelo, duly chastened, repeats, "Don't talk in the car." Wee-Bey leads the way back to the SUV. I don't want to be the one to tell him, you guys, but Wee-Bey's pants are a little big on him.

Cut to a strip club, where a young lady in red patent thigh-high boots and matching red underwear is working the pole behind the bar. Above, Stringer Bell sits at a railing overlooking the bar with Avon Barksdale (Wood Harris). As we follow their gaze to a guy at the bar, Stringer asks, "What about Marcel?" Avon says he's not inviting him. "You want him out?" asks Orlando, sitting on Avon's other side. "I really don't give a shit what you do," Avon replies. Good way to establish Avon's mostly hands-off management style. But then Avon changes his mind, telling Orlando to "go down there and make that motherfucker pay for his drinks." Oh, cold! Orlando chuckles and takes off to do it. From above, we see D'Angelo enter the bar, followed by Wee-Bey; there are warm greetings for D'Angelo from patrons and dancers alike. Above, Stringer asks if Avon remembers "the cop that tried to pin Gerard on Little Kevin?...White detective, black hair," Stringer prompts. Not "Weird accent, face like a really hot monkey"? Because, I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't make out with either McNulty OR Dominic West, but that is one simian-looking mofo. Avon's like, "Not really, but go on." Stringer says that he was in court. "Word?" asks Avon. "He say anything?" Stringer says he just sat in the back.