Guillermo throws his weight around, tossing all the other criminals out of the room so he can sit down and talk on the phone with Nancy. "Lacey LaPlante? The name threw me off." She nods: they check ID at the door. But that's only half the answer. Nancy's gone now, for the rest of the episode. This is how we know. Nancy's not here right now. He smiles and notes how she always keeps her ass covered; he asks if she brought him Krispy Kremes and she laughs hatefully. She offers to send him a care package, like the Jesus bobblehead; she offers to put on a show for him. She thinks about the brick dance and she looks through the glass at him, in his cage.

Guillermo says he'd prefer a story, the one about the gringa princess who calls her DEA buddy and gets a magical tunnel shut down. She counters that she doesn't know that story, just the one about the old woman, lived in a giant shoe. He gets angry; she likes that. "You stepped over the line," he explains, close to losing control, and explains that since she's acting like a big boy now, she'll be treated like a big boy. But a boy isn't what she is; it's what her power has always relied upon and now it's what her survival depends upon: not being a boy. "Yeah," Lacey spits, "I don't think I ever acted, nor desired to be treated like, a big boy."

That's right, Guillermo nods: trying to dig down underneath her placid calm, trying to assert himself over her another way: "You're all cunt, ain't ya?" It still doesn't work. Her smile turns steely bright: "Yeah. And titties." She fires off the word like a gun, insulted in spite of herself. She returns the serve, putting him back in the cage. "Speaking of which... Is it true that in prison, sometimes the bottom guys get tattoos of titties on their backs, so that the big daddies can imagine they're looking at a woman when they're raping you?"

He smashes his fist against the window and she giggles: mean, icy, plastic and fake. Full of hate, blaming him for the tunnel and the fear and the family, gone, the maternity store, the boxes full of guns, the little girls in the tunnel. "Do you know about that?" she asks, quietly, smiling like a best girlfriend, and he tries again to come out on top, staring her down. "I know you're the rat, and rats die." Trying to scare her with boogieman tales, big boy stories; she could laugh.