Esteban tells Nancy they can leave the restaurant when he's finished his coffee. No matter what they throw at him, he's going to pretend everything's okay, and he's going to drink his coffee. Just like Nancy. He lays out the possibilities for who's trying to kill him this week. The salt shaker is one group, the pepper is another. "Let me guess, you're the hot sauce," Nancy says, but no: "I am the table." That's all Nancy needed to hear. Her whole demeanor changes, and he notices. They talk about how people are constantly trying to kill each other, and occasionally/often kill innocent people while all of this is going on, but Esteban says he can't control the streets. "The streets that provide the latest in mobile health care," she says, toasting him without sipping her margarita. Bad luck.
Esteban says the philanthropy lets him give back. "Take a little blood, give a little blood..." They talk about how he's a huge hypocrite because he lets his conscience off by playing both sides, but because they're on a date nobody mentions that Nancy's doing the same thing. "You're bleeding again," she says, and tends his wound. He doesn't want anybody to see that he's hurt, but she doesn't care. She takes out a little bit of debris: "Maybe if you put it under your pillow you can get a dollar from the shrapnel fairy," she laughs. He's charmed. "Part of the job: people see you're afraid, they do not vote for you." She says he's afraid of something: dirty bottles, snakes, failure... She gets it right: "Heights." He admits he is. She likes that too. He asks what she's afraid of, and she says, "Calm." Before the storm? No. "The storm I can weather."