Don't worry, you're not pervy. "O-Mouth" in the context of Graceland means exactly what you think it means—except the euphoria in question comes from shooting up, not getting down. Charlie and Briggs pranked poor, gullible Mikey real good while rehearsing their own O-faces for an upcoming drug-bust-in-the-making thing. Since undercover cops aren't exactly encouraged to do the drugs they're trying to keep away from the childrens, and getting high together is a tried-an-true tradition during any honest sale, the officers in Graceland shoot up with hemoglobin and fake it. A good, convincing "O-mouth" is as important as a solid cover story and reliable backup.
After taking a breather last week (HAPPY BIRFDAY 'MURICA!) "O-mouth" eased into the angst this week with some beach-party football, bar-room shenanigans, and a running joke about the will-they-won't-they potential of Briggs and Charlie—who apparently have a history, or at least their cover personalities do, or something. Once we hit the soul-crushing part of the program, however, darkness fell pretty damn fast.
You almost have to feel bad for Mike at this point. He met with Juan and stood up to his handler with the theory that everyone and their grandma has already come up with concerning Briggs: He's a good guy with unorthodox methods. Mike literally has zero evidence of Briggs doing anything worthy of a top-secret department investigation. Dude has saved everyone from death/discovery/bad tacos at least a half-dozen times since Mike unpacked his carry-on. Mike had nothing to present to an increasingly irritable Juan and frankly, he didn't even understand why the FBI so badly wanted the newbie to find dirt on their poster boy for everything-awesome-about-being-an-FBI-agent-and-more.
Blah blah blah, drugs are always missing from Briggs' busts and they think he's selling them. Whatever. I'm not buying it. I don't really think Mike is either, but he's not really in a position to say so.
So what's a Mike to do? Get closer to Bello—because Briggs is going to love that—but also, so much of the scant evidence against Briggs is tied to Bello. My own personal faith in Briggs is unwavering, but admittedly, if you're a crooked FBI agent looking to cozy up to one of your targets, Bello seems like a fun and lucrative choice... you know, when he's not busy being a paranoid nutjob burning his underlings' eyeballs out because they might have betrayed him, or at the very least, had one helluva bad day at the office.
Mike spent the afternoon bromancing Bello via a shared interest in cowboy movies and roughing up snotty Buy More wage slaves. When Mike asked to be Bello's new bodyguard, his brilliant plan was looking pretty good. I like Bello. He's not quite up to Magic City's Ben Diamond as far as utter lunacy on a power trip is concerned, but he's close.
While Mike moved in on Bello, Briggs was busy rekindling old covers with Charlie to bring down a heroin supplier... when who should wander in from the whatever passes for cold in Southern California, but Whistler! Charlie's wayward CI from the rainbows-and-kittens-filled "Heat Run." Once it was established that Whistler wasn't about to snitch on Charlie, the gang figured they could use him for one last mission when every attempt to get to the mysterious Odin using undercover players failed (and yes, Johnny, "Odin" is a totally dope name <3 <3 <3).
For a second there, I was worried that Whistler's excessive chattiness about the awesomeness of "Katie" and "Eric" would get him a bullet or a hot shot because seriously—obvious much, bro? While Whistler managed to avoid formal retaliation, a happy ending just wasn't in the cards for him: He OD'd in the bathroom. Charlie began an obvious guilt spiral, culminating—or kicking off?—with the decision to shoot the real heroin upon their target's demand. He'd read on the internet that undercover cops shoot fake smack and realized that Briggs and Charlie always shot their own stuff when they were around. Good job, internet.
So it seems to be business as usual at Graceland—some genuinely good laughs paired with soul-crushing depression. Welcome back!
– "No one wants to hear about your shitty life." File that under things I say to my dog when she's being an asshole and barking at anyone and everyone who dares walk past our apartment.
– Where's D.J? :(
– Poor Johnny. But congrats to Paige and her week of free drinks thanks to the devious prankage of Briggs and Charlie—or should we say "Eric" and "Katie?"
— I hope we're not gearing up for a Charlie-has-a-drug-problem story. I groaned before the original punk-ing was revealed because I didn't want it then, and my feelings never changed.
— I still think Juan is full of crap. How about you?
What'd you think of "O-Mouth"?