Claire calls the DA, and while he's clearly in straits of some kind, he takes time to point out that her calling him while he's prosecuting her daughter is really inappropriate. Claire wants Alexis picking up trash on the West Side Highway like he promised, but sadly, the DA is a political figure who can't be seen as soft on people who toss pregnant women down stairs, no matter how pointless those women are, how horrific the horrors their wombs contain, or how much money the accused commands. There cannot be a different standard of justice for the rich, he says, with a fucking straight face. That alone makes me want to tie him up and beat him, but as we'll see that's been proficiently covered.
Claire points out that the different standard of justice for the rich was (always) on the table when she gave him obscene amounts of election money, but hey: his hands are tied. By Wilhelmina Slater, wearing a basque and some kind of jungle gear, who has him strapped to the bed and reaches out to click off his bluetooth with her riding crop. Hot. She threatens to "hold him in contempt" if there are further interruptions, and she shoves that thing in his face so ruthlessly that he comes before it even touches him. But if you'll pardon my ignorance, I always thought the stereotype was that you get to do the thing you don't always do, in these scenarios, like the powerful on-top dude gets peed on or tied up or naughty and punished or whatever the opposite thing is, but like, if Wili spends her playtime being a dominatrix, doesn't that mean either A) we still don't know all the things Wili fits into her day, or B) all day every day is one long S&M trip for her? Because the latter possibility is amazing.
Tony still wants to pretend that there's something remotely romantic about his relationship with Hilda, whining about the fact that they're having a picnic on Betty's stupid apartment floor when they could be doing it outdoors where God can see their sin, and Hilda's like, "You know what's romantic is ants crawling on your skin. And dog crap." He's all over her, and she's like, "Okay, but we actually do have to talk. These little meetings must be more than implausible Freedom farce tableaux where my dad walks in. Also talking." She lists a few of the many horrible things about this storyline, like the ten people they're dissing by having this conversation, what will happen if he finds out his mom's a skank (too late on that one), etc. Tony claims he's leaving the wife, and Hilda's like, "I swear to God if you're fucking with me" but he promises: he's telling wifey this afternoon. No more "dates" in the back of a car, no more Ignacio assuming they'll burn in hell. That's such good news that instead of leaving until after he actually makes this lie come true, Hilda makes out with him. Later on he's leaving, and the wife has followed him, and she reads the nameplate on the door -- "B. Suarez" -- and the Freedom farce comes flooding right back.