Andy's screaming at old people about Miss Jeanette, accusing an old man on an O2 tank of lying to him about where his prescriptions come from, and he stumbles into Bud, who takes him off the case after a little bit more of that Andy Bellefleur attitude. Andy is totally the Colonel Tigh of this show. He is so awful and impotent that he just becomes amazing. "Bud. I'm a good cop. I can close the case, let me show people that, please." Bud asks him to do something else, but here's the thing about Andy -- and the reason Tara couldn't help but indulge him, last night: "I don't do anything else. This is it." Bud's sorry, but damn. Andy pouts, and stomps away with yet more beer.
Sam has graduated to shots, and is now sweating profusely. He was in bed, still naked, still a child, when she got into the shower. He was terrified, and jumped up. In the armoire were polos, dungarees, clothes that fit him perfectly; called into existence, perhaps, by his need and the curious divides and gaps within his soul. In the drawer was a shitload of cash; he shoved it all into a pillowcase. She was nowhere to be seen.
Maryann appears in Sam's office doorway, grinning wildly. "You have something of mine!" He jumps to his feet, and she closes the door behind herself. Her presence is menacing, her smile is engaging. "Karl said you stopped by with a gift. I do love presents!" He presents her fearfully with the trashbag full of money, trying to be strong, to pay tribute to whatever force she embodies: "I don't know how you found me, but I assume this is what you came for." He's honest, as ever: "I'm sorry. I was young and scared at the time." She takes it, and he steps back as quickly as if she were coiled and ready to strike. "I remember," she smiles dreamily, crouching and opening the bag.
Maryann smiles, and rewrites the story with him inside: still a child, still naked puppy Sam, provincial and ignorant. And she is arrogant, and very old, and wise. And she is laughing: "Money? Oh, you sweet thing. It's not your money I want." He asks if this is about getting to him through Tara, luring her into Maryann's world, and she's nearly offended: "Get back at you? How in the world did you get the impression that this was about you?" Eggs sits at the bar, smiling at Tara.
Tara can't believe he still wants to see her, that Eggs hitched a ride all the way from her palace just to say hi. "You're either dumber than I thought, or you're way too good for me." Maryann, Eggs, we don't like that kind of talk: "I just wanted to see where you work." She reminds him how "lucky" he is: the bartender likes him, and the drinks are on the house. He asks her for something sweet and she lists them, distracted by his beauty, looking around her at the bar: "I can make you a rum and Coke? A margarita? Turns into his kiss: Or a White Russ..." Um, he totally meant a kiss? So he takes it; she leans in hungrily, and Sam and Maryann walk out from the back, watching it. And nobody offers them any fucking towels.