Anastasia wormed her way into the doctors' lounge and is building what looks like EPCOT Center out of paper cups. This girl needs to redefine "fun" for herself. Somebody get her a beer. "Wow," Carter marvels, entering. Chen follows and, once again, ushers Anastasia back to her seat in the waiting room. Carter peers at faux-EPCOT with interest, then gingerly reaches out to yank a cup from the structure. The whole thing topples. Jenga! Weaver enters in time to witness this. "What are you doing?" she asks as EPCOT collapses. She turns around abruptly, then whirls back again, and I swear Laura Innes was trying to stifle a laugh and not ruin the take. "Hi, uh, just getting a cup of coffee," Carter bluffs awkwardly as paper cups bounce loudly to the floor, rolling around willy-nilly. Weaver smirks and changes the subject to Pratt's little scuffle with Security. "It was a misunderstanding," Carter insists. Weaver gives a half-hearted lecture to the effect that the interns are his responsibility, and it should be an automatic suspension, blah blah blah, and Carter blows her off until he notices Pratt running around outside like a freak.
Cut outside, where Pratt's chasing down Mrs. SUV. He's completely flipping his shit and screaming for her to stop driving, while she's shrieking and doing a terrible job beating a discreet retreat. "What do you want from me?" she yells. "I don't even know this man!" Pratt smacks her car, but in the epic battle of SUV versus man, SUV wins every time. She books it as Pratt defiantly chucks a rock at her rear window. Carter's all, What the Jebus?! "Stupid bitch!" screams Pratt. "Your patients know where she lives. They'll report her to the police," Carter points out, still stunned. "Like they give a damn," snorts Pratt, Defender of the Weak. "Like you do?" Carter counters. He lists Pratt's offenses -- late arrivals, mysterious early departures, disdain for direct orders -- and then chides him for bringing a weapon to work. "I explained about the gun," Pratt snarls. "I've seen your type before, Pratt," Carter sighs. Pratt disagrees. He thinks he's unique. He'd be wrong. "I know what I see," Carter says. "Someone throwing their career away." As Carter shakes his head in judgment and heads back inside, Pratt stares after him with a sulky expression. We fade to black wishing that Pratt's comeuppance had been more dramatic, with fangs and blood and maybe some slapping.