Nancy's At Nite. Nancy's passed out on her arms at the counter in the kitchen when Silas comes home, weirdly subdued. Nancy gives him shit for coming in at 4:30, but she's too tired to really put a lot of Irish in it. Silas, zombielike, tells Nancy he's okay with that she does. Nancy stares at Silas and, I think, probably curses her aching neck and wonders why she didn't just sleep on the couch that was right behind her the whole time.
In his office, Doug delightedly takes in a YouTube video of animal-control officers shooting tranqs at a bear in a tree, who then falls out, right onto a trampoline, bouncing off. Heh. Celia walks in, and as Doug cues up the video again, Celia interrupts the fun by sliding an 8 x 10 in front of the screen, depicting Doug enjoying his bong; he had sent it to Dean as a joke. Doug says that it is pretty funny, but Celia doesn't think he'll find it so amusing when she bulk-mails it to every voter in Agrestic. Doug doesn't seem to take the threat very seriously, so he's unconcerned when Celia says that her terms are that he make her a signatory on Isabelle's account. Doug says he won't go against Isabelle's wishes. It doesn't seem to have occurred to Celia that this would be Isabelle's idea, but Doug sets her straight, adding with a chuckle, "She hates you! Too bad she can't vote." Celia, bemused, tries to say that she and Isabel have had their problems, Doug corrects her: "She hates you. Just like I hate you!" He tells her to mail it to whomever she wants, and dismisses her with a wave. However, when she leans over to get her photo, she catches Doug checking out her ass. Intriguing, no?
Peter arrives at "Thursday's," and declines a table, saying that he's waiting for someone. He sits in the lobby...right next to Conrad. The two men sort of nod obliviously at each other, and then when Nancy walks in, both chivalrously leap up, notice one another, and awkwardness ensues. Nancy heads straight for the hostess, and asks for a table for three.
Inside, Nancy apologizes for the ruse that got both her fellows there. Peter and Conrad stare at each other suspiciously, and finally Peter asks who "this person" is. Nancy, putting her hand on Conrad's, says that he's her business partner, but he quickly denies it, saying that he's just another out-of-work black man. Nancy very seriously tells him that it's okay. Peter asks why they're all there. Nancy explains that Conrad wasn't happy with their arrangement, and she thought that if they all could meet, they could clear the air, so she tells Conrad to ask Peter anything he wants to know. Peter did not co-sign that offer, but Conrad leaps in anything, confirming that Peter is "the husband," and Peter that Conrad is the "partner." Conrad, narrowing his eyes, asks why Peter would risk his career by marrying Nancy and turning a blind eye to all her pot-ing. Peter says that he does it for Nancy, and takes his turn to ask a question: how did Conrad's partnership with Nancy start? "My kid bit her kid at a karate tournament," deadpans Conrad. Peter dryly says that's funny. Conrad asks whether any of Peter's colleagues know about Conrad, and Peter dismissively says they probably don't: "You're small-time." Nancy says that she thought they all needed to meet if this was going to work out, and Conrad bitterly asks how in the world this could possibly work out. Peter decrees that they not expand beyond the grow house, and to take their harvest directly to the medical marijuana clubs. Conrad asks if Peter doesn't want "a piece" of said harvest, and Peter says, "I don't want any money. I just want Nancy." The prize herself looks shiftily toward Conrad, testing to see how this is going to go over. Conrad asks if he's just supposed to trust Peter, and Peter ingenuously says he doesn't have to: "Trust your partner! Who happens to be my partner. So by the transitive property of partner trust, we can trust each other." He raises his eyebrows. Nancy decides to end the episode by fooling herself, putting a hand on each dude's and saying that they're all going to be fine. I guess that the birthday singalong at the next table is what's distracting Nancy from all the dick-measuring going on under the table.