Boardwalk Empire

Some fight, huh?

Which fight?

Dempsey-Carpenter.

That fight hasn't happened yet.

-(DINGS) -(BABY CRYING)

Daddy eats first.

Are you okay?

Yeah, sorry.

I've been having trouble sleeping.

That's not surprising.

The stigmata.

Make sure to keep this protected.

Not many people shaking it these days.

It's slow all over, I suppose.

It seems you're busy though.

- How's the Commodore doing? - Nucky.

Nucky, my ass. When were you planning to tell me about the stroke?

There's a doctor-patient privilege.

Really? Well, you know what's another privilege?

The ability to sell medicinal alcohol.

That license I got you,

the one that puts an extra grand in your pocket every month,

that's a privilege, too, Carl. One that I could very easily take away.

Nucky, I'm sorry.

- Yeah, well, next time... -(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

I was wondering, Doctor, when you're done, if you'd mind checking on Emily.

What's wrong?

She's warm, no appetite.

Of course.

Don't forget who your friends are, Carl.

I'll see you next week.

-(KIDS SHOUTING) -(BELL RINGS)

Trying my patience.

That's enough now.

Come on, come.

Dad, there's some man here to see you.

- What does he want? - Sheriff Thompson?

- Yes? - Who the hell are you?

My name is Dick Halsey, I'm a clerk with Esther Randolph's office.

- Who? - The Assistant US Attorney.

- Right, sure. - What's the matter?

It's okay, Pop. What can I do for you?

Left several messages with your office.

Tourist season. We got crowds of people with conventions.

Sheriff Thompson, this is a subpoena calling for your testimony

pursuant to an ongoing investigation.

- It's a subpoena. - What kind of horseshit is this?

Dad?

- You come to my goddamn house? - You son of a bitch.

I could have arrested you, sir. Subpoena is a professional courtesy.

- Get the hell out of here. - What do you want with my son? Hey!

Grandpa! -(GROANING)

Oh, dear, God. Eli?

Dad?

Dad.

-(PHONE RINGING) Angela, pick up the phone.

Are you here?

Goddamn it.

- Hello. - Princeton, it's me.

Finally, Jesus.

Why you been ducking me?

I don't owe you money, and I'm sure as shit ain't scared of you,

so why the hell would I be ducking you?

Four messages until you ring me back, what do you call that?

Busy. So, what do you want?

An explanation. Your friend from Chicago's in the fucking morgue!

- God rest his soul. - That's all you've got to say?

I ain't much on eulogies, pal.

Knock off the jokes, AI.

He was supposed to do a job.

Which is something you should have did months ago, like I told you.

That's not the point. You vouched for this fellow, and now Nucky's still alive?

You gonna point your fingers now? That shows a real lack of character, buddy.

- What the fuck am I... - Jimmy!

Who's that?

Princeton?

How long have you been standing there?

Long enough. We're going to the beach.

Ange!

- AI. - What's going on?

Look, I got to go.

Who was that?

Darmody, Atlantic City.

- What did he want? - Nothing.

I don't know. It's pandemonium over there.

I got a meeting with Remus, there's a shipment coming in.

Romulus couldn't make it.

Is that his partner?

Let me give you some advice,

I don't know what's going on with you and Darmody...

- John, you got it wrong. -...and I don't really give a shit.

But whatever it is you're doing,

I'll tell you one thing.

Keep me out of it and don't be fuckin' stupid.

George, how are you?

Ninety-nine-point-eight.

Call me if it spikes, but I highly doubt that it will.

Something she ate perhaps?

She ran herself ragged at the lake on Sunday.

There's a bug going around, nothing to worry about.

Get the car.

Katy.

Ma'am.

Is he taking his meals here now?

It was just coffee, ma'am.

Take the children to Lilian, please.

Come on, now.

Off with you both.

Damn it.

Where are you going?

I'm meeting with my attorney.

Can't he come here?

It's with the federal prosecutor.

I don't like you going out.

Owen won't leave my side.

If you're worried, I'll call Eddie instead and Owen can stay here.

That won't be necessary.

Can I make you some breakfast?

No, thanks, I'll eat something at the office.

Hello?

Yes.

I'm very sorry.

That was June, your brother's wife.

Your father has died.

Okay.

I'll eat something at the office.

Come in.

Ingrid, is it?

- Sigrid. - Oh.

I'll take that.

- Oh, this must be... - Your room is the first one off the hall,

where you will also sleep with the child.

I'm sure it's quite serviceable.

Kitchen,

the water closet is in back.

A Victrola for music.

A W-80, the latest model.

Very nice.

I love to sing songs.

Do you have any questions?

What is to be the salary?

Room and board,

meals provided,

with an additional $18 per month.

Ja, that is suitable.

You do understand it is seven days a week?

I must require some time to myself.

Sundays, once a month.

But all of the child's meals will be prepared in advance.

Ja, I'm excellent cook.

I prepare for you some fish stew?

- That won't be necessary. - Very well.

You'll find everything you need in the cupboard.

Her name is, what?

- The baby. - Abigail.

Do you not wish to kiss her goodbye?

Sweet little Abigail,

how your papa loves you.

Good work, boy, good work.

We maintain those odds, and he's a late entry?

It's unorthodox, yes, but there's nothing illegal about it.

Said the spider to the fly.

You've been known to spin webs yourself, my friend.

AR.

- Charlie, Meyer, say hello to Max Hirsch. - Hey, guys.

- Nice to make your acquaintance. - A pleasure.

Max trains Sidereal.

He's running at Aqueduct on the 4th of July.

Not yet, he ain't.

We'll continue to talk, can we agree on that?

You'll talk, I'll listen.

How are you boys making out?

Not so great, but it's nice to get out in the sun.

There are cheaper ways to get a tan than picking losers.

Yeah, you're telling me? My last horse is still running.

And what's the word from Philadelphia?

Business as usual, near as I can tell.

There's a shipment on Thursday from Bill McCoy.

Nucky Thompson's still alive, so, until we hear otherwise...

Any idea what happened there?

With Thompson?

Who knows?

- Word is he's got a beef with his brother. - Really?

I would have thought James Darmody, myself.

No, Darmody ain't got it in him.

Pillow talk, Charlie?

With the mother? I'm through with that.

What's the matter?

Manure.

But what can you expect when you conduct your business in a stable?

Tax evasion, bid-rigging, embezzlement of county funds,

graft, gambling, prostitution,

various and sundry Volstead Act violations.

What, no fare-beating?

We can amend the complaint further.

You're like an onion, Mr. Thompson. The more layers we peel...

I prefer to think of myself as an artichoke.

And for the record, those charges are baseless.

There is no record, this is an informal conversation.

Well, if you're nudging this chat in the direction of a plea deal...