Port of Baltimore. Machinery moves around. La La and Frank part ways by the trailers, and an expansive Frank calls out, "Everybody works today -- even you, my little J-series wonders." Johnny Fifty, Nick, Ott, and some other dude happily leap up to work. Nick casually slips Spiros's paper to Frank, asking if Horseface is working the Wilhelmina today. Frank unfolds the paper, bellowing, "I told that motherfucker we were done! I told him!" Nick, uncomprehending, says that he heard from Spiros that he'd talked to Frank, and adds that it's "triple-rate for every can." Frank can't stand on his principles when faced with this news: "Triple?" He looks again, and then folds the paper, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Quickly, he calls to Ott to inform Horseface that he'll be working the Wilhelmina today. Ott takes off. Frank tells Nick, "It's now or never for us. I got no choice." "Today we got ships, Uncle Frank," says Nick. "Today. But the writing's on the fucking wall." Frank angrily stabs Nick in the chest with his finger, pressing the paper at him. Nick takes it back. Frank: "Fuck the wall." Hey, I once saw a musical about that! It's apparently not a good idea.