In the Pit, Wallace is still upset about Brandon, trying to get through it with a little talk therapy; he reports to D'Angelo that Brandon was "all cut up and shit," and that "his insides was hanging out." D'Angelo -- who knows what it's like to see the sort of thing Wallace did -- just says that "sometimes you gotta send a message, yo." Watching a transaction of some sort go down a few yards away, he adds, "Yo, when you picked up that phone, what did you think they was gonna do? All that shit is in the game, man. You know that." Wallace says he guesses so: "Like you and that girl, huh?" D'Angelo frowns guiltily, thinking of Shardene: "What girl?" "The one in the apartment," Wallace reminds him. D'Angelo calls over a little kid, and Wallace presses, "I mean, I like what you said about all that killing, you know? Especially that part about how it ain't gotta be like that. Just sell the shit and move on." Well, sure. But Stringer did not sign off on that policy. D'Angelo gives the kid a bill, ordering a ginger ale and telling him to get something for himself. The kid takes off, and D'Angelo wearily turns back to Wallace, saying he remembers that conversation: "But it ain't like that, is it?" Wallace, sounding insulted that D'Angelo is treating him like a petulant child: "Yeah, I know. I know it ain't." That doesn't mean he's done talking about it, though: "Thing about it was his eye -- his eye was blown out! And the other one was open!" As they're talking, D'Angelo gets a page and hurries off to the phone, probably relieved to have an excuse to end the discussion, but Wallace yelps, "And, yo, Dee: it fucks me up! It's like he's looking out -- like he sees everything, you know?" D'Angelo sighs: "Don't think about it." Wallace starts to say he can't help thinking about it, but he just trails off, and instead spits, "FUCK!" D'Angelo turns back and very seriously instructs him, "Yo. Let that shit go. Just let it go!" Wallace rubs his palms together, looking like he actually wants nothing more than to let this shit go, even if it means snuffing out his soul.
From a nearby roof, Carver watches through binoculars as D'Angelo trots over to his favourite pay phone to place a call. Carver immediately ducks down, grabs his own phone, and calls Lester to say that the "Barksdale kid" is on the line. Lester hangs up, and tells Prez, "He's beeping someone." The number D'Angelo calls pops up, with an asterisk in it. Prez writes it down, apparently decoded. On the roof, Carver watches D'Angelo throwing a football to someone we don't see, but making sure to stay close by the phone. Presently, it rings, and D'Angelo hurries to answer it. At the office, Lester and Prez listen -- the latter with an expression of rapt wonderment -- as Stringer and D'Angelo converse. Stringer wants to know if D'Angelo knows "a young hopper" -- "the fool, drop in there with a punch." Prez takes an index card with Stringer's name on it and writes down his pager number. Though that description is inscrutable to me, it rings a bell with D'Angelo. Stringer confirms with D'Angelo that the hopper in question has problems: "Enough to bring home, right?" "You know, man, whatever," says D'Angelo. No idea what's going on. But that's the end of the conversation, anyway. At the office, Prez beams. Back at the courtyard, D'Angelo plays a little more football, and then jogs back to his regular position next to Wallace and announces, "They're bringing Bodie home." Wallace, confronted with his own mortality, has no pithy rejoinder.