Episode Report Card Sobell: B+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT The Fool Of The World And The Flying Ship
By Sobell | Season 3 | Episode 8 | Aired on 11.11.2007
So, back in Sona: Michael is busy glaring at the workers as they weld the bars onto the windows. Whistler comes up behind him and asks, "Reinforced steel on every window -- how do you think we're getting through those?" Michael -- fidgeting away, as he does when scheming -- says absently, "I'll figure something out." Whistler says warmly, "I know you will. Listen, man. I'm sorry about before." Good Lord, is the man moody. I love it -- ambiguity and hidden motives usually drive me nuts, because I often suspect writers of making crap up on the fly, but I dig how we're allowed to see all these little pieces of Whistler without getting the whole picture -- and I'm really enjoying the weird relationship he and Michael have, where it's part respect and part suspicion. Anyway, Whistler shrugs it off on emotional strain over how vital it is for things to all work out. Michael replies, "My nephew's life depends on it all working out." Whistler says, "I know it does. I never asked: how old is he?" Michael replies that L.J.'s sixteen, and Whistler just winces and mutters, "Oh. Hell."
Before this scene can collapse under the weight of its emotional subtext, T-Bag comes by, lilting, "Knock-a knock-a." He has a letter stuck between the fingers of his fake hand. Hee! T-Bag says, "It's from El Patron himself, but it's meant for your eyes only." Michael takes it, and T-Bag clucks, "Grabby. I know it's no invitation to the Sona Hawkins dance -- what you got cooking up with Lechero, huh?" Michael brusquely tells T-Bag it's none of his business. T-Bag reminds him, "You want to keep secrets? You want to treat me like a pesky insect -- fine. Just remember: information, like crumbs, always trickles down to the vermin on the floor." And just remember, Emmy voters, that scenes like this show why it is near criminal for you to continue ignoring Robert Knepper. Anyone who can grab a scene and delicately steer it from black humor to dark menace is worth noticing. Got it?
What Lechero has passed on is a piece of paper with a diagram and the legend "4:00 4413." Michael stalks off after concluding it's a sketch of Lechero's headquarters. Whistler is left alone to look at his pretty new knife. He tucks it into the back of his pants, then trots off to find Michael.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Sofia is being let into Whistler's nearly empty apartment. Tommy Day is telling her that under normal circumstances, if a tenant were to pay a year's rent before heading to the pokey, he'd rent out the place again and double his money, but Whistler was good people, so he refrained. Sofia's not listening; she's looking around in shock at the shell around Whistler's secret life. Or else she's admiring the lovely French doors and beautiful cherry-finish molding around them. Oh, wait -- that's me. Anyway, Tommy Day awkwardly says, "A lot of guys have something on the side...this apartment, whoever he brought here. It doesn't mean he didn't love you." Sofia is still in a daze. Or else she's checking out the coppery one-inch glass tiles that make up the kitchen backsplash. This rental is seriously nice. Anyway, Sofia pulls it together long enough to ask for those insurance papers Tommy Day mentioned earlier, and he leaves to get them. Sofia looks down at the small bed -- or perhaps the lovely light oak flooring -- then notices the shredder full of papers. When she finally opens a drawer, she pulls out an envelope with a pile of receipts, plus an American passport and Social Security card.