Sick Bay. Ensign Scrunchie Face reprises her role as Phlox's Girl Friday as she prepares a hypospray of something. T'Pol, arms crossed, butt cheeks pouting, asks, "How long will this last?" Phlox says he requires six days a year for hibernation, but he thinks two days will be more than enough. Ensign Scrunchie Face expositions that she's adjusted the dosage to rouse Phlox in precisely forty-eight hours. Because we know there's no way he's going to be needed before then to attend to a jagged, bloody laceration or a major head trauma, right? T'Pol wants to know what they do if anyone is taken ill while he's making use of his BreatheRight strips, and Phlox tells her that Scrunchie Face is a "capable medic." Ah, the words of love. "I know where the bandages are," Scrunchie Face snarks. Phlox reminds the Sub-Commander that she can always wake him up in the event of a real emergency. But that would never, ever happen. No way. No how. Phlox reiterates, "But please, only if it's an emergency, hmm?" He nods at Scrunchie Face, who hyposprays his neck. Phlox gets this placid, drugged look on his face and paraphrases Pepys, saying, "Well, to bed." Phlox walks out, and T'Pol wishes him pleasant dreams. I think they should wait a few hours and then stick his hand in warm water to see what happens. Seriously -- it could be an exo-physiology experiment.