Yang knocks tentatively on a door and is greeted by incoherent mumbling. "Dr. Lewis?" she asks, peering into the darkened room. A young man in a white coat is lying facedown on the upper berth of bunk beds. "Dr. Lewis?" Yang repeats, closing the door. Lewis jumps up, eyes still closed, and blurts, "Check a crit!" Yang takes a step back. She apologizes to the groggy intern and explains that she's there to relieve him. Lewis nods faintly, sniffing at his armpit and spraying a bit of cologne onto it. Yang nervously says that she's looking forward to getting started. Lewis hops down off the bed and snaps his fingers, finally putting it all together. He says her name, glances at his watch, and sniffs, blinking hard. Dr. Lewis is pretty damn cute. Does he really have to go?
We cut to the hallway, which is bathed in a heavenly light. Lewis spills out of the room, muttering, "But if you're Maggie Yang..." He pauses, hardly daring to believe it. "...that means...I'm done." He absorbs it for a second before throwing his arms in the air and whooping. He hustles down the hallway, fake punching a fat man trailing an I.V. stand. "Hey, let me buy ya breakfast!" he offers. The man informs him that he's just had his stomach removed. Lewis glances at the man's midsection and slaps him on the arm with, "Another time then." He dances off down the hallway but stops himself long enough to toss Yang a beeper and tell her where to find the guy in charge of her rounds. Then he's off again, whooping and cheering and slapping at the ceiling and kissing patients. Yang and the fat man stare after him, stunned. The man asks what's up with Lewis. Yang, stomach sinking at this glimpse of her future, says that he just finished his internship. Her beeper makes a sound like a demented mosquito. That can't be good.
Cut to Dalgety and Jolly Maid doing up the last of their respective buttons. Dalgety slings his stethoscope across his shoulders, grabs Gina for one last smooch, and says he's got to go. A bell rings outside the room. Dalgety opens the door a crack and peeks out. "Aw, bollocks!" he exclaims, jumping back and closing the door fast. Turns out they've just started filming outside the little love nest. Gina asks what's wrong and takes a peek for herself. The director calls, "Action!" Gina gapes. She closes the door, and the two of them giggle.
Yang, meanwhile, is off to find her assignment. Her beeper bloo-woops sadly, and a seedy-looking guy pops out of an alcove. Introducing himself as a urologist with the nickname "Rib-eye," he furtively gives Yang the lowdown: her beeper is a piece of crap, and he's got just the thing to replace it. He pulls the "P-7270 long range" out of his pocket and holds it out temptingly. Yang handles the gadget with a look of wonder, while Rib-eye extols its many virtues, one of the highlights being that if you drop it in the "crapper," it floats. It can be Yang's for the low, low price of "a hundred bucks cash." Rib-eye gives her a greasy wink and lets her know it's an "intern special." Yang hesitates. She's saved from making a decision by the appearance of Posner, the guy in charge of her internship. Rib-eye makes some crack about going to shove something back into a patient, and Posner starts giving Yang the gears, snapping that he's been paging her. She holds up the whinging beeper and says there must be something wrong with it. "Lewis probably dropped it in the crapper again," Lewis bitches, flipping through sheets on his clipboard while Yang eyes her beeper with a newfound disgust. Posner thrusts a page at her, saying, "These are your players," and telling her that she'll be working under Dr. Joyner. "Sixteen patients?" Yang asks incredulously. Posner takes a bite of donut, and being far too busy to close his mouth, masticates it in full view. "Yeah, we're slow," he says dully. Pointing at the sheet, he adds, "Bed nine is A.L.C." Yang scrunches her nose uncertainly and repeats, "A.L.C.?" "A la casa," Posner explains. As in discharged. He leaves Yang to sort it out, calling over his shoulder that he'll be at breakfast.