In the realm of influence, sometimes one must venture into the heart of another's world to understand their very essence. When Jimmy dares to trespass Mr. Acker's gate and rap on his door, it's not just a physical act but a symbolic journey into the realm of understanding. The key, more than Jimmy's relentless persistence or his silver-tongued charm, lies in his ability to grasp what moves the other party. He gets people, always has, and he knows Mr. Acker will not be swayed by platitudes about youthful itinerance or lectures on the relentless march of progress. A rancher at heart, Mr. Acker cannot resist a good horse metaphor, especially when it's illustrated with a graphic visual aid. In this instance, a man—representing the bold attorney Saul Goodman—is depicted "sticking it to" an unbreakable beast (Mesa Verde), and thus Saul is granted a new client by Kim, who needs a touch of Magic Man to upend plans for the Tucumcari call center.
The morning after their bottle-tossing tantrum, Jimmy and Kim wake up, post-coitus and cranky. They go through the motions of dental hygiene before stepping outside to survey the damage. Jimmy brushes it off, placing the blame on her landlords, while Kim sweeps up the glass herself, eager for a clean slate.
Meanwhile, at Gus's unusually steely suggestion, Los Pollos Hermanos' eminent employee Lyle takes repeated turns toiling away at the fryer until it's glistening to his boss's satisfaction. Lyle is, through no fault of his own, bearing the brunt of Gus's muted frustrations. While Lyle furiously scrubs away at the grime in a tightly wound flop sweat, Gus stoically awaits word from Victor that their plan—sacrificing $700K of their own dead-drop deposits to stay one step ahead of both Lalo and the law—has been seen through. Only then is Lyle's work deemed "acceptable." The execution of their strategy, though precise, is the outcome of an operation that is at best acceptable.
Hank's feelings towards the DEA's haul are not dissimilar. It's amazing to consider the circuitous turns that bring him full circle back to Gus several years hence, and how so much could have been nipped in the bud if he had closed in a bit nearer to Fring from the start. But as it stands, he knows there's more than meets the eye to this easy series of arrests from an eager CI. Even if he spends the rest of his doomed days wondering why certain tunnels—like the one Gus's henchman escapes through—are culverts. Until then, beers on him!
Howard, on the other hand, may never discover the identity of the vandal who unleashed a minor armada of bowling balls upon his beloved ride. The act, though, likely shattered his fragile inner peace, a sudden lifestyle shift tacked onto his corporate facade like a cheap vanity plate. Jimmy initially failed to see through Howard's earnest and desperate attempts to woo him back into HHM's fold. Howard desired the fiery, no-holds-barred passion at his firm, a bit of the "Charlie Hustle" grit required to resuscitate a flagging outfit. Who wouldn't consider the lifeline, one last chance to reclaim their true name and make good on their own terms? But as Jimmy watched the Jaguar hum away, its bumper declaring "Namast3," it was clear that Howard was merely fumbling on a half-assed journey toward his own redemption. His man-hugging, amends-making overtures were no less of a persona he was putting on in the aftermath of Chuck's demise than Jimmy's slight right turn toward Saul Goodman. Jimmy's Suzuki may seem pitiful, huffing and puffing in the Jaguar's dust, but he was arguably the one with more self-esteem. (That, and a drug-distributing family keeping him on the side of more unsavory business.)
Meanwhile, Mike is not exactly a picture of confidence, still gathering himself from the repercussions of Werner's getaway fiasco. He shows up for his night babysitting Kaylee, but missed Stacey's memo that she'd found a substitute for the night. He presses and pleads for the chance to atone, but she can pick up on the act. It may not be about Matty or Kaylee or any Ehrmantraut matter, but something corrosive is cutting into him—deeply. And until he comes to terms with whatever's got him out of whack, he's not needed nor welcome as a caretaker and provider. So, he returns to the scene of last week's street-thug beatdown, ready to take his licks. It's another telegraphed scene of self-loathing, right up until a knife plunges into his side. He awakens in what appears to be a Mexican village, possibly around the same vicinity where Mike and Gus were rushed to treatment in a critical Breaking Bad sequence. Wherever and however—let's assume he's been under close watch by his sometime employer—it's imperative that Mike, along with Gus and the rest of his troops, regroup and recharge. The time for peace is through.
