"When you know how you're playing this, give a yell," Ronnie tells Daniels, packing up her briefcase and making to leave. "We know how we're playing it," Daniels spits. Ronnie stops in her tracks. "My people are going down to do some hand-to-hands," Daniels declares. He reiterates the orders for McNulty and Santangelo, adding, "As things heat up, I'll go to the deputy and get us more manpower, but this case is not going to sprawl." Adorable! "A month from now, we're all gonna be back at our day jobs," Daniels concludes, staring straight into McNulty's soul. Ronnie's like, "Yay," and leaves. "Anything else?" Daniels threatens McNulty. Apparently not -- at least not right now. Daniels's final order is that no one does anything on the street without his knowing about it first. No one has any objection they're willing to raise at the moment. "Chain of command, Detective," Daniels reminds McNulty. "That's how we do things down this end of the hall." Daniels slams the door. An auspicious beginning, to be sure!
In a very unglamorous watering hole, Bunk and McNulty are enjoying a late-afternoon cocktail, talking about the former Mrs. McNulty. "If she's fucking you on visitation, take her ass to court!" advises Bunk. McNulty says it's not that simple. "How is it you always got the whole world pissed off at you?" asks Bunk -- rhetorically, obviously. McNulty tells Bunk that Daniels is running his new detail, and Bunk tells McNulty to watch his ass, then. "He a snake?" asks McNulty. "No, he ain't that, but he's a company man," says Bunk. "You know, a prospect. Grapevine says the next district to open up is his...He's black, he's still young, he hasn't pissed anybody off. Shit, he even has a law degree." "No shit," sighs McNulty. "University of Baltimore, but still, you know," adds Bunk. Jesus, Bunk, is his CV up on MySpace or something? McNulty predicts that Daniels will fuck up the Barksdale case: "Buy-bust? He's pissing in the wind!" "You already fucked it up, Jimmy," says Bunk. "You made it happen." McNulty chuckles, knowing Bunk is right: "I am fucked," McNulty self-pities cheerfully. "Fucked is me." He does a shot and then slams the glass on the bar, gazing expectantly at Bunk, who complains that McNulty is going to "make" him go another round, but dutifully orders two more.
Avon's strip club. A dead-faced stripper disrobes as Stringer and D'Angelo discuss Johnny. "It's all in the game," says Stringer. D'Angelo says that it was only a couple of dollars, but if he's making my point, he might be in the wrong line of work. "It ain't the money," says Stringer. "But we fucked him up so bad," D'Angelo protests. Out of jail two days and you're this soft? Shiiiiiiiiiit. "It's the message, Dee," says Stringer slowly. "You can't show no weakness!" D'Angelo tries to protest some more, but he's really got no argument, so Stringer moves off, leaving us a clear shot at the female club employees (possibly on a break, since one of them is in super-frumpy glasses). D'Angelo calls after him, to no avail, and finally just looks up at a TV over the bar, airing a news channel with reports on "America At War" and "Pentagon Briefing." Four-Eyes is now down to two, and comes over to D'Angelo offering "company." "I ain't no john," he tells her. "Good, 'cause I ain't no whore," says the stripper, Shardene Innes (Wendy Grantham). D'Angelo tries to rebuff her by saying that he works for Stringer, but she presses him to buy her a drink, and he finally asks how much. "$20," she says. He raises his eyebrows, but she says she drinks slowly. He chuckles, and tells her, "Maybe another time." She accepts that with a warm enough smile, moving on to the next mark. Literally the very next one at the bar, in fact.