Prison. Stringer tells Avon how crappy the supply from Atlanta has been, and how inaccessible Roberto is to them: "It's getting hard to hold on to the Towers without our name all over the product, is what I'm saying." Avon asks who's got the good supply. "Eastside," says Stringer. "This nigga Milton got a small cut. Prop Joe. This Jamaican cat who got the strip on Gay Street." Avon recognizes the last as a Petey Dixon. Stringer sadly says that if you go to the expressway at lunch, "you can watch the fiends travelling from west to east." "Damn!" whispers Avon. Stringer says that he's "cutting shit with shit right now, trying to cheat," but that he can't do it forever. Avon rubs his eyes, and says that he's on it. Stringer then asks whether Avon's working things out with D'Angelo. Avon stares at him a moment, and then looks down: "Boy got to find his own way." Stringer says he thinks they should keep reaching out to D'Angelo, show him that the Barksdalies have a plan. Avon nods. "Take some real estate, put it in Dee's name," Stringer suggests. He shrugs: "He has something to come home to." "Do it," says Avon. He adds, though, that he can't undo what happened: "Push come to shove, I mean, I've been fair to him, ain't I?" Stringer takes a moment before he nods and agrees that Avon has been fair: "Too fair." Avon looks down. If he has a fault, it's that he cares too much.
Non-port waterfront. Spiros skips down a bit of a hill and meets up with Frank, who looks around: "Where's The Greek?" Spiros says that The Greek sent him. Frank: "Fuck you and fuck him." Frank starts to walk away, Spiros wearily calling after him that The Greek sent Spiros to tell Frank that they're doubling his fee, "to help with any legal troubles." This gets Frank's attention, and he turns back as Spiros says that The Greek regrets that he's caused Frank continuing problems. Frank aggressively steps forward, yelling at Spiros that the cops are rounding up Frank's people, and The Greek won't even talk to Frank face to face. Spiros spreads his hands in a gesture of ambiguous apology. "I'm done," spits Frank. "I'm out! I don't need nothing more to do with you people! I don't need the trouble or the money -- I got a union to run." He sticks his hands in his pockets and sort of lingers there, staring out at Beth Steel across the water, in a way that makes it seem to me he's waiting for Spiros to talk him into something. After a long beat, Spiros notes, "They used to make steel there, no?" He steps closer to Frank as both stare off. Spiros: "Smoke from the stacks. But inside..." He shrugs. Frank glares at Beth Steel like it just killed his mom. Spiros finally slips away, leaving Frank alone to contemplate whether NAFTA was really such a great idea.