Elsewhere, Cutty is walking down a street, on his way to place a call at a nearby pay phone. Ah, pay phones -- this episode is only three years old, and yet, the presence of a pay phone couldn't feel more dated than if Cutty were to whip out a Rubik's Cube to fiddle with while he waited for the person on the other end to pick up. Back in my thespian days, I was in a play once in which an actor was called upon to answer a phone by saying, "It's your dime, start talking," and the playwright fretted that, since the price of pay-phone calls had just risen from a dime, the line would cost his play its contemporary feel. These days, you'd have to stop the play and explain to half the audience what a pay phone is. Also, when I was younger, gentlemen would tip their fedoras to ladies as they drove by in their auto-gyros on their way to the local Whig Party rally. I'm old is what I'm getting at. Also Cutty is calling that number that Avon gave him back in Jessup.
Back at Major Case HQ, we're listening in on the wire where Drac is describing -- in glorious, extensive detail -- the bust from a few scenes ago and how that opens the promotional floodgates for him. From your lips to Prop Joe's ears, the smiles of the assembled team members seem to say.
Cutty is waiting on the corner for his prospective employer when a couple of youngsters in an SUV pull up. The upshot is that Cutty has to serve an apprenticeship before he's given more permanent work; that apprenticeship involves slinging, and he's told to pick up the goods from a tennis shoe-wearing fetus sitting on a stoop. To his credit, Cutty looks suitably put out by the idea that a recently-paroled felon should be asked to carry a grocery sack full of drugs through the streets of Baltimore in broad daylight. Why not just don a t-shirt that says "Ask me how I'm violating the terms of my release"?
Daniels has left behind the comfort and warmth of the detail office for the comparative chill of the homefront, where the missus is busy huddling with politicos, including-but-not-limited-to Delegate Watkins. Marla greets her husband with the most affection-free kiss outside of the Cruise-Holmes household; as they walk into the living room, we see that they're holding hands, seemingly in a because-that's-what's-expected-of-us manner. And it is -- apparently, Daniels is quite essential as a background prop for his wife's burgeoning political career. "We were saying you fill out a lieutenant's uniform nicely," Delegate Watkins says. "Makes an impression on the campaign lit." Daniels seems slightly perturbed that such nonsense should matter to people. From deep within the flag he's wrapped around himself, Rudy Giuliani nods his head and says, "Eventually, you'll get used to it." Daniels vows to do anything he can to help out the campaign, and takes his leave -- realizing that he's nearly forgotten to kiss his wife on the way out the door, he turns and does so awkwardly. Yes, everyone -- happy marriage here! Feel no need to look any closer! "I sure hope he know what he's in for," we overhear one of the campaign workers chirp, as Daniels seeks the sanctuary of a wife-free room. "Because it's gonna be a long race for the both of you." Judging by the expression on Cedric's face right now, I'd say he knows exactly what he's in for.