Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Orlando!
Figured you knew.
Jump the one over the five...
Shit is weak all over, you know?
-That's pretty damn sophisticated. -What is?
Scares me.
I been with you for an hour and a half buying drinks.
-That's fucked up. -All right, later.
Now, you wanna play the brand new big fat game:
-5-0 comin' up, y'all. -Time-out.
Yeah. Twice a day.
Dee would be D'Angelo Barksdale.
-And in the end, you gonna get respect. -Yeah.
I'm McNulty, that's Greggs.
Sure, Prez, you want to see my pager?
Jaybird.
-What, you get locked up or something? -No, come on.
Got a minute?
Yeah, I tried it. Twice.
Put it that way, I guess he could be a little problem...
Told you.
Keep pushing, we'll get a whiff of the money, too.
I'm just the front, clean name for the liquor board.
It's triflin'.
They've coded the telephone numbers in their pager messages.
John Bailey, in a Kevlar vest, lit up by three separate shooters.
McNulty's carrying a cloned pager, but this is what we use in court.
Supposed to be some sort of kin to her.
I did the club thing for a while, but...
Wait, hold up. Come on, don't play me.
That might be your whole damn salary, but I clock that shit in minutes.
You shoulda pushed him, Dee.
The foundation of your case, Detective.
Saying, you trying to catch up with Bird?
What, he been stuck up again?
I'm even better with two hands.
Fair enough.
How would you know?
You know Avon?
Bracelet too tight?
-What's up, Dee? -What's up, Shorty?
you about to see your uncle, you understand me?
-You know, I'm just saying-- -He scares me.
Come on, now, ain't but one working man, now, is there?
that you talked to her the night she was killed.
Yeah, Flag House?
You know, me and Poot, we been steady working it, you know?
Coming up the way we did, you kind of expect that.
String, man, I can't lie.
Anything coming through on the pager?