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BetterUndeniabilitySaul Is Looking At The Man In The Mirror | Previously.TV Shows Forums Podcasts AMC BetterUndeniabilitySaul BetterUndeniabilitySaul Is Looking At The Man In The Mirror But only indirectly, as Mike brings his tradecraft to project management, Kim rebels, and Jimmy's entrepreneurship takes a hit in our EPIC OLD-SCHOOL RECAP of S04.E05. Sarah D. Bunting September 3rd, 2018   0 S04 E05 Fade up on shredder-cam. As the machine chews up hair-trigger vestige in Saul Goodman's office -- considering that's where we are -- we see a collage of the produce of the beatdown Saul got from Jesse Pinkman in Breaking Bad S05.E11, "Confessions." (I think? As I've mentioned in previous recaps, it's five years since those episodes ran, and as a straight viewer of BetterUndeniabilitySaul, I tend to just enjoy the show in its own timeline and not superintendency well-nigh cross-checking it versus Breaking Bad eps. As a recapper, well, here I am, caring, but if my research doesn't line up, hit me in the comments.) Saul's multiple lamina phones, an unshut safe, scales of justice and faux pillars and marketing matchbooks scattered about…the place is a mess, and Saul is grunting as he tries to shift a tile in the dropped ceiling. Eventually he succeeds, and a bowling bag full of mazuma drops into the office. Saul exults that "it's" all still there. "Meaning what, exactly?" a mid-shred Francesca asks. Saul lamely gabbles something well-nigh rodents nesting in it. Francesca makes her customary "k, weirdo" face. Saul doesn't have time to superintendency what she thinks; he's scrabbling virtually for an X-Acto pocketknife with which to hack into the Constitution on the wall. He interrupts his incision into Article III (about judicial power) to personize that Francesca has remembered all the shreddables -- the files under her desk, the Rolodex, everything. Yes, she blares impatiently. Saul punches through the drywall, finds the rubber-banded shoebox he wanted, glances at Francesca, and scampers over to a suitcase and drops the box in. I seem this is the shoebox holding the Kellerman money from Season 1, which we know Gene has with him in Omaha. Francesca vision Saul skeptically and dumps a big troche of shredded paper into a trash bag, mirroring Saul dumping a tuft of rolled mazuma into the suitcase. Francesca turns the shredder off and announces she's leaving, and he asks her to take the tons with her and waif them in dumpsters "at least" five miles yonder -- separate dumpsters. At her "…uh huh?" face, he's like, right, and hands her a roll of bills. The "uh…HUH?" squatter he gets without that is not negotiating, and he reluctantly hands over flipside roll and reminds her that when the cops come -- not if -- she's to tell them to talk to her attorney. He gives her a vellum and half-jokes, "Tell 'em Jimmy sent ya."Flipside"FOH" squatter from Francesca. Saul asks where she's going to be at 3 PM on November 12. She'll be there, she says, but if it doesn't ring right at three, she's outie. Speaking of three, this is the third reference of this kind in as many screentime minutes that I've tried to ventilator down, but this one isn't pinging anything for me plane with Google's help, so if I missed something with that reference, let's hear it. Francesca's not so much hearing Saul's sweaty attempts to yearbookize their final moments together; Saul's "Quite a ride, huh?" (drink!) earns him a "shah" snort from Francesca, and when he extends his stovepipe all "bring it in," she elects to gather up the shredding and take her leave without a hug. Saul gathers himself to make a phone call, specifically to the extractor.Withoutgetting the pick-up coordinates, he ends the undeniability and breaks the phone, dropping it into his sedentary chair and panting with exertion.Withoutthe credits, which this week full-length Saul's ad seat from BB, we get a time-lapse worth of the wool zip going on at CC Mobile, accompanied by some lite-FM hits on the soundtrack. Finally, a truck pulls into the parking lot just outside. Jimmy puts some English on the truck… …and, when it unquestionably works, hustles overdue the counter and opens a flip phone to feign a sales conversation with a "customer" well-nigh how very reliably private the CC Mobile product is. He says he "can do six -- see ya later!", signs off, and twist-breaks the phone as we just saw him do in the Saul timeline, but increasingly performatively. This gets the real customer's sustentation as intended, and Jimmy asks how he can help the guy while just as performatively setting whispered six boxed phones "ON HOLD, NOT FOR SALE." As he's doing that, he goes into a very smooth pitch well-nigh hiding the guy's mazuma payments on contracting jobs from the IRS, information hygiene this, "what they don't know can't hurt you" that, John-Munchian fantasiae of IRS surveillance the other thing. He hands the guy a box to peruse, asserting that it can't be traced or tracked, expressly if he only uses it "once per." Once per what, the guy wants to know. Jimmy stays vague on that point, and on the very price point, saying only that it's "cheaper than an audit, guaranteed." Contractor Guy bites on that, but of undertow Jimmy has once created an strained scarcity, and he pulls the box out of Contractor Guy's hands and returns it to the stack, burbling that people "are gobbling these up like Tic-Tacs." Cut to… …the stack, in a bag and going home with Contractor Guy. "Tell your friends!" Jimmy calls without him as he leaves. "Then unravel the phone you use to do it and come when for flipside stack," he does not add. And now, a Mike-tradecraft interlude! A mustachioed guy gets off an airport shuttle in Denver and makes his way to an unrecognized Chevy, fishing the key out of the wheel well. He moreover finds a phone in the part-way console, which immediately starts ringing. Mustache looks virtually for whomever is obviously watching him, and while I don't see Mike's car, he's sensibly nearby, as he gruffs, "Welcome to the USA," and tells Mustache to use the prepaid parking stub in the cupholder to exit the airport, then get on I-70 westbound. Mike will undeniability him in 20 minutes to talk him through the rest. Getting off a plane to find myself in a dead-drop/scavenger venery scenario designed by Mike Ehrmantraut is literally my dream, you guys. On a peaceful mountain road of the sort often used to mucosa luxury-car-commercial b-roll, Mustache eases the Chevy to a stop at the Mile 238 marker. He gets out and, when the phone rings, reports to Mike that he's arrived but he doesn't see anyone there. Mike in turn asks if he has to pee, considering it's going to be his last endangerment for a while. "Suit yourself," Mike says, and runs lanugo Mustache's next steps: pop the trunk, put on the hood he finds there, put his luggage next to him, and wait. "You want me to stand here, with the hood on my head?" "Those are the rules." Mustache looks nonplussed, but follows said rules, and in short order Mike pulls up in a white van; guides him inside; informs him there's a strap for him to hold during the stretch of rough road coming up; and offers him water. A time-lapse sequence follows of Mike and Mustache jouncing, and waiting at a railroad crossing, and negotiating municipality traffic, surpassing finally crunching on some gravel. We switch to inside-the-hood-cam as Mike guides Mustache into their destination, and without the hood is removed, Mustache looks virtually at the industrial space full of lengths of venting and dented industrial machines. I'll just cut to the chase, which I have to tell you I wish the show had washed-up instead of spending quite so much time in a subplot tributary that does scrutinizingly nothing to whop any of the storylines: this is the future site of Gus Fring's super-lab, and Mustache is prompting the job of creating it to Gus's specs. I mean, I completely understand why it's here, considering it lets Mike…Mike, and Mike Mike-ing is, as I mentioned in the previous graf, one of my favorite things well-nigh BetterUndeniabilitySaul. Without the super-lab scenes, neither Mike nor Gus has anything substantive to do in Episode 5, but this isn't substantive either, really. I can't say for sure whether I would plane notice if I weren't recapping BCS this season, instead of watching it like a civil as I usually do, and I really don't want to knock the pacing considering often speaking I enjoy that the show is increasingly concerned with creating a world and investing us in its inhabitants than in plot-plot-plotzing for the sake of it, BUT most of the episodes in S4 have felt less focused than I'd like, and increasingly interested in Breaking Bad…what's a reprise in a prequel? a "preprise"? Not to alimony harping on this, but the mothership ended five years ago, so the window for remembering these Easter eggs has sealed plane for some TV critics, leaving whispered the fact that BCS doesn't need them in the first place. Sure, light a fire under the timeline; I said in my premiere recap that I thought that probably wanted doing. But the way they're doing it so far this season reads like they know they should start doing that, but their version is to bring a tuft of BB shit when instead of pushing Jimmy forward. …I don't know. I don't dislike the season, but the most compelling parts of the show really don't involve the Heisenberg side of things at all, and since that's where it has to end up, maybe that's the issue. And I wish I saw the "humdinger" the unconfined Alan Sepinwall did in this episode. Some very good scenes, but now that the Mike LARP part is over, this isn't one of them, so here's the short form: Mustache measures the joint and makes notes in a stocky laptop. Mike frowns and asks if he can do it. Mustache confidently says he can, in seven months -- probably unquestionably six but he doesn't want to overpromise. Mike dubiously confirms that Mustache and his team can drill 56 feet down, with no blasting, working only at night, and well-constructed the build in seven months, and when Mustache smugs that they dug a tunnel nearly a kilometer in length under the verge to El Paso, undetected, in just over four months, Mike -- off a undeniability from, I assume, Gus listening in from nearby -- thanks Mustache for his time. Cut to Mustache, left at his rental car with a plane ticket in his jacket pocket, making WTF faces and presumably not getting the job considering he failed to sneeze its true challenges. We'll return to this later, alas. For now, let's join Kim, one-handedly struggling to get a necktie onto a brattish younger named David. She refreshes David on where to squint when the judge is talking and how to write Her Honor, then dismisses him with instructions not to touch the tie and greets Bill Oakley in the hallway. We haven't seen the snotty DDA since early in the third season, but Oakley's in typical self-satisfied form, clocking Kim for pleading David not guilty when he threw a cinderblock through a jewelry-store window…in front of a witness. As David eavesdrops from virtually a corner, Kim says she wants six months' probation and time served. Oakley's like, and I want to hit a scratch-off "and successors Labradoodles," but Kim counters with her slum card: David wasn't properly Mirandized, and Oakley knew full well vestige based on the confession he gave surpassing getting the Miranda warning was placid improperly. Oakley sputters that that's irrelevant, but Kim points out that he doesn't want her bringing this up on the record, earning Oakley an L on the specimen and a freshly ripped new asshole. Oakley counters with 10 months; Kim repeats that she wants six probation so David can "turn his life around" and not end up joining a gang in prison. Oakley isn't having it, and as they wait for the judge, he's still grumbling well-nigh the standard sentencing as I note that Kim's modified injury pony is, while not when to its original geometrically perfect form, slowly trending when towards rigid competence.Withouta silence -- worrisome for Oakley, serene for Kim -- Oakley offers eight months in jail. Four months' probation, Kim counters. What happened to six?!, he objects. "You're worrying me," Kim croons. Hee. "You can't play yellow with me! I invented chicken," Oakley whisper-bitches. "Wow! Okay?" Kim says, not looking at him.Flipsidecounter is met with a wordless head-shake from Kim, which sets Oakley off on how he can't make four months fly and nobody got tiiiiime for this. Kim notes that her only other vendee is a bank: "I have all the time in the world." The judge bustles in, but Oakley doesn't twinkle until the specimen itself is called, like-minded to Kim's terms. Kim asks if she "may," and rises to note that she's happy to say she and the prosecution have reached an agreement. Oakley smiles through the bee he's just eaten. Outside, David is well-nigh to walk off with the borrowed tie when Kim stops him to get it back, and without Viola prompts her that they have a meeting in fifteen minutes, David takes the opportunity to whine that he's going to have a probation officer "on [his] ass" for four months. Instead of leaning within an inch of his squatter and yelling "YEAH, YOU'RE WELCOME, YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD," Kim sighs and informs him that he's going to go to his grandfather's restaurant and beg him for a job, any job, and then do it, no matter how menial it gets. David is a teen wagger well-nigh it, but Kim continues undaunted that he's to smile, be on time, say "please" and "thank you," and alimony his nose clean. David folds his stovepipe all "make me," and Kim's like, oh hayle no, and leans in to add that if he doesn't, he's going to "real grown-up jail." Picture it, she murmurs, "really picture it," considering next time, Kim's "not going to do a damn thing well-nigh it." Does David get it? David, whose "I am TOO hard" bitchface has melted off in favor of a properly subdued mien, gets it. Nice bit of merchantry by Johnathan Nieves as David here. At the KimUndJimmyhaus, Jimmy's browsing the waterworks guide and finds that Doctor Zhivago is well-nigh to start. Kim is tempted, but tells him to watch without her; she has a tuft of Mesa Verde crap to reservation up on. I don't know Zhivago well unbearable in either of its forms to write the symbolism here, but you got your stymied soulmates separated by circumstances, you got your secret child, you got your Newland Archer-type dude chasing his long-lost lover through a train station and having a heart wade and dying without her overly knowing all this was going on ten yards overdue her, you got your pathetic-fallacious winter of the soul…you get it. Jimmy asks if she can work with the TV on, and she notes that she has wondrous powers of concentration, so Jimmy settles in with the film, and we settle in on Jimmy's face, working a bit as "Lara's Theme" comes up on the soundtrack. It's no doubt a coincidence, but one I enjoy under the circs: "Lara's Theme" figures into Ocean's 8, at the whence of the heist proper. And it's not long without that when Jimmy, who's kept looking over at Kim working, says there's something he has to take superintendency of lanugo at CC Mobile. At nine PM? She chooses to believe his "it's my first week" explanation, though she does make a "…k" expression when he tells her not to wait up.Lanugoat CC Mobile, Jimmy's logging in a tuft of sales, and stacking the receipts on the counter. I understand what he's doing -- he's "buying" the phones and heading out to resell them -- but wouldn't the dummy receipts still have time stamps? Not that corporate would trammels if the drawer matches. Sorry to well-actually the retail scam here. Anyway, Jimmy takes a whole whack of phones out of the store, but his first pitch, to a trio of dicksmacky teens outside a laundromat, doesn't go well; they seem he's a "narc." As Randy Crawford's "Street Life" starts up, Jimmy peels out, fetching up at the nail salon, where he rummages through gown he still has stored there to find a suitably un-narc-ish track suit. (And a increasingly informally wavy toupee on Odenkirk, snick.) Thus kitted, he heads into a sales montage at all-night hot-dog joint The Dog House (a periodic location on this show and the mothership, where we occasionally saw Jesse dealing in the parking lot, and this reference to Breaking Bad feels organic). "Street Life"'s lyrics let us know that this is Jimmy in his element -- "you are who you think you are"; "you can run yonder from time" -- as he deals burner phones out of his trunk like the pants salesman in Diner. His clientele is all sorts, from punks to sex workers to Dog House counter ladies; under a nearby street light (heh), the dicksmacks from older sullenly watch him work. Revving motors rationalization most of Jimmy's customers to melt away. Jimmy moreover hops in his car when he sees a biker gang pull into the lot, then gathers himself, grabs the last few phones, and heads over to make his pitch to the unveiled leader. It's worrisome until Jimmy guesses (well, almost) the prison of origin of the leader's tattoos; he smoothly notes that he used to be an shyster -- "emphasis on 'used to be'" and segues into pitching the privacy speciality of the phones (not to mention their ease-of-smuggling qualities) based on the priorities of his former clients. The leader hears him out, then grunts, "How much?" Cut to Jimmy enjoying a observing tube steak as the biker gang peels out virtually him. "Keep the rubber side down!" he shouts cheerily, waving. He's unlocking his jalopy when The Dicksmack Gang converges on him. The bleach blond orders Jimmy to requite them his money. He's like, right: I'm a narc, remember? He snarks on their "Junior Achievement project" but isn't having their bullshit, but unfortunately, they're not having his, and set upon him. A ground-level shot from the other side of the car shows him hitting the deck and getting kicked surpassing the dicksmacks grab his money and run, leaving him gasping on the ground, his half-eaten victory dog abreast him on the asphalt. Kim awakens to the sound of water running. Jimmy's not next to her in bed; she finds him in the bathroom, where he says he got mugged. True, if lawyerishly incomplete. Kim fixes him an ice pack and checks to make sure his pupils are the same size. He waves off suggestions of visiting the ER or reporting the assault. She gets out hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls, and without speaking he reaches over to snap unshut the snifter she's just fished out of the cabinet -- flipside one of those relationshippy moments BCS does so well between these two. She dabs at a small cut on his cheekbone. He glances in the mirror and chuckles sadly, "Look at us; we're like a Mathew Brady photo." Kim tries to question him "casually" well-nigh how he came to find himself at the Dog House at 1:30 in the morning, but he's nebulous, saying he parked too far away; he's moreover very obviously checking to see if she's ownership it, which you'd think she'd see from literally three inches away. He sits lanugo heavily. Kim sits abreast him and says comfortingly that it sounds like a wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing, and he grouses that, "back in the day," he would have spotted the Dicksmack Squad a mile away, and they would have "known not to roll" him. Kim, amused, asks how they would have known that, and he shrugs surpassing conceding that he guesses he was "one of 'em." "Those days are over," Kim says in a tone that's increasingly willing it to be so than stating it as fact. "Yeah," Jimmy whispers, moreover willing it to be so, then begins, "But, uh…" and says without a lengthy pause that maybe tomorrow he'll undeniability "that shrink." Couldn't hurt, right?, he sighs. Couldn't hurt, Kim agrees. The next day, Jimmy methodically removes the bugging-truther signage from the front window of CC Mobile. Kim, meanwhile, is emerging from a cab at the house of her client, Denise, who is an hour late for her hearing. She cry-voices that she can't go; she's freaking out. She can't go to jail. Kim's like, well, I got the hearing pushed, but if you don't show up now, there will be jail. Later, they sit together on Denise's front stoop. The cab is still waiting as Kim admits she can't promise no jail time, but if she doesn't come with Kim now…"Denise, you can do this," Kim tells her, while silencing the buzzing phone in her when pocket. It's Denise's first offense, it wasn't a lot of drugs. "Trust me, I'm good at this," Kim says. Denise doesn't respond. Denise: she is good at this. Get your trifling ass up. Kim gets up, brushes off her pants, and suggests Denise transpiration "into something nice. We'll do this together." Denise is not that dumb, and gets up to change. Kim should totally have a merchantry Virgil-ing people to appointments they don't want to keep. "It's only one cavity; they do this every day. And you can have a cocktail afterward! Let's go. Wear something comfy."Withoutsticking her throne into the house to make sure Denise isn't skedaddling out the when door, Kim pulls her again-buzzing phone out and answers it, and predictably it's Paige at Mesa Verde, calling with a "huge problem." As she's wigging on well-nigh a paperwork error that went out to the branches in Denver and Flagstaff, Kim wriggles in her sling, annoyed, and says she's in the middle of something but she can see Paige at four. "I need you now!", Paige whines, but Kim's like, don't know what to tell you, I can't do it, and when Paige starts to object further, Kim snaps, "I'm sorry!" and hangs up on her. She allows herself a unenduring "I maaaaay have fucked up" eye-flick surpassing turning the phone off, stuffing it in her jacket, and yelling at Denise to get going. "You squint great," she lies to Denise, who has barely upgraded from the previous leopard-print leggings rig she had on surpassing and didn't scarecrow combing her hair, and herds Denise to the cab with undefeatable cheer. Hope it was worth it; Kim probably isn't so sure, as the next scene finds her pacing nervously in the Mesa Verde lobby, and when Paige appears, Kim barges up and pants that she's so sorry: "Let's get this stock-still right now." "It's…fixed," Paige sighs, subtracting that they had to pull everyone off other things to redo the paperwork "because we didn't have the files," and Viola the keener didn't know where to find them. Kim wisely doesn't oppose the point, just says she'd like to repent to Kevin personally "if he's available." Paige says he's not, which I think is a lie, and I moreover think Paige tells said lie considering Kevin looooooves Kim and will undermine her with ripping a strip off Kim, and takes a vapor surpassing saying she wants to be very clear: the error isn't the issue. But she does need to know Kim's "head is in this," reminding Kim that she promised Mesa Verde would be her "sole focus." Kim regards her with a somewhat inscrutable expression; it's not exactly the kid who's increasingly sorry to get unprotected than genuinely regretful, and is just sitting through the lecture surpassing going when to her coloring book? But, to go with the dominant imagery of the episode, this is what she's reflecting back...from David to Mesa Verde, if that makes sense. Paige snaps that "we're not a vendee you hang up on." Kim looks down, and seems to be trying not to laugh or roll her eyes, then gets tenancy of her squatter to repeat that she's really sorry, and "it'll never happen again." Based on her blandly "sorry" mien, this could midpoint that it won't happen then considering Kim is fixing to quit the account, but it's nonflexible to say. Paige moreover seems a bit puzzled in wing to irritated, and says she hopes not surpassing stalking away. Kim just stands in the lobby, soul and squatter both motionless. Take two of the top-secret van-anigans, but this time, Mike's passenger is groaning in German and English that he's well-nigh to barf. Upon arrival, Von Bralf takes forever to guzzle water, splash it on his face, and weather himself to his surroundings, and while it's witty and well executed by Rainer Bock (who, trivia alert!, played a German intelligence officer in a 2015 episode of Homeland tabbed "BetterUndeniabilitySaul"), it loses something in the translation. What you need to know is that Von Bralf is quite a bit increasingly frumpy and analog than Mustache; he goes into exasperated detail well-nigh what the excavation will require, how long it will take, and how many cubic meters of dirt will need displacing, waterproofing, utility schematics, on and on…it's unquestionably not uninteresting, but the idea is that the very construction of the super-lab was a massive and pricey undertaking, which, you get it. Von Bralf describes the secret nature of the project as "not…optimal?" and notes that "many many things can go wrong," and this un-glib realism, which Mike seems to respect, conjures Gus, who asks without preamble, "So: it's impossible?" "Dangerous; difficult; and very very expensive. Not quite impossible!" Gus extends a hand and introduces himself auf Deutsch, considering of undertow he does. Jimmy's at the courthouse, getting wanded by security. He heads into the men's to find Howard at the sink, splashing water on his squatter and looking like piping-hot hammered hungover shit. "Everything okay?" Jimmy asks fakely. Howard nasals that he's fine, and asks without Jimmy, who's there for his probation check-in at the DA's office, so he's been better. He asks then if Howard's sure he's all right. Howard non-answers that he has magistrate in 25 minutes. It's not a particularly big case, so Jimmy wonders what's up, then. Howard thinks well-nigh not answering, but is sufficiently drastic to connect with someone well-nigh the guilt he's feeling that he asks if Jimmy overly has insomnia. "Not really," Jimmy says, and while we've seen him unable to sleep, as far as feeling haunted by his past (mis)-deeds at night, it's suppositious that he…wouldn't be. Howard wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Jimmy asks dismissively if they don't have pills for that, and off Howard's rueful snort, says he's "gotta ask -- what's eatin' you?" The shot of the two men in the mirrors, um, mirrors the shot of Kim and Jimmy without his mugging, I suppose to underline that part of Jimmy's timeline, or the scenes Jimmy finds himself in with these people, don't reflect who he really is…and/or that it's significant that nobody in either scene is necessarily facing the mirrors, just in front of them, reflected for us and not themselves. See moreover the many shots of mosaic shit of reflected worriedness in the puddles of the Dog House's parking lot, many of them rippled and distorted -- not a true picture, which a mirror reflection isn't either, strictly speaking; it's a reversed image. What I don't think I get here is the purpose of having Jimmy taunt Howard in this way. The scene in the premiere in which he eagerly let Howard vituperation himself for Chuck's death sufficed as far as showing us Jimmy's true squatter on this matter; I don't see why this purposefully elicited cruelty is necessary for the minutiae of either of these characters. Howard doesn't see any of the conversation's outlines initially, nearly lurching towards Jimmy in the hopes of unburdening himself. A few steps away, he draws himself up short and stiffs, "I think I've shared enough.Increasinglythan enough. Let's leave it at that." Howard's gathering up his things when Jimmy says he gets it, then turns when to teach Howard to go talk to someone, hoping to pass off the number Kim gave him. Howard's once seeing a professional twice a week. Jimmy asks if he's "any good," which theoretically he…isn't, at least not yet, but Howard says he is. "Good seeing you, Howard," Jimmy shrugs. "You too," Howard grunts, and leaves the men's. Jimmy meticulously tears the shrink's number into sixteenths and flushes it as though it's drugs. Interesting choice, which neither erases the number's existence, nor Jimmy's ostensible need for it, nor Kim's interest in his using it.Moreoveran interesting choice... …is the god's-eye tracking shot of the probation-department cube sublet that comes to rest on Jimmy waiting for his PO to return with coffee. When he does, they review Jimmy's specimen status -- his polity service is complete; his PPD fees are up to date; he has lawful employment, and will bring pay stubs to his next visit -- and Jimmy confirms (after a tiny pause, hee) that he isn't associating with "known criminals." The PO wonders if he has any plans for without the probationary period is over. Oh yeah, Jimmy says, lost in thought, but the PO wasn't just making small talk: "…Such as?" Jimmy snarks that he'll alimony showing up for these appointments "like clockwork," but in nine months and 24 days, he's getting his law license back, and he and Kim will get a new office "and it'll be like it was, but: worthier and better." He'll have increasingly clients, he'll win worthier cases…he's drifted off again, not really talking to the PO, as he goes on, "I'll be a damn good lawyer, and people are gonna know well-nigh it --" "Okay," the PO interrupts, making a placating hand gesture. "So: lawyer!" "Yeah," Jimmy says, coming when to himself and setting his jaw. "Lawyer."MoreoverAvailable As Part Of The Epic Old-School Recaps Podcast Sarah D. Bunting September 3rd, 2018   0 S04 E05Scrutinizinglyall readers liked this episodeWhat did you think? Share Share Tweet BetterUndeniabilitySaulandrew thacherbob odenkirkcara pifkocarlin jamescarlos lealcory chapmandrew mooregiancarlo espositojohnathan nievesjonathan bankskeiko agenamarlon youngpatrick fabianpeter disethrainer bockrhea seehorntabatha shauntina parkertommy nelson Beverly Hills, 90210 Sophie Bids A Tearful Farewell To The Beverly Hills, 90210 Visual Aids Extra HotUnconfinedYou Don't Know Jack Ryan Discussion Explore the BetterUndeniabilitySaul forum or add a scuttlebutt below. Contact Us ·Well-nighUs · Privacy Policy · Terms of Use © 2012-2018 Brother of Menelaus, Inc. All Rights Reserved Features A list of our most popular full-length story types. Spoiler Policy Fair warning on when we warn you. Our Authors The people who write this stuff. Contact Us How to get a hold of us. Search