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A Little Help From My Friends

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A Little Help From My Friends

An SUV is parked carelessly in the ambulance bay. An injured, bloodied guy in the back seat wails in Spanish. The driver explains to a hurried Pratt and Carter that she hired him to cut down a dead tree, and when he fired up his chainsaw, he fell twenty feet from a branch onto her roof. They can't believe she didn't call an ambulance; she blinks that she figured this was faster.

Weaver and Gallant accompany a withered old coot into Trauma Green. He is all sunken mouth and mustache and flappy jowls, and little else. But apparently, this Mr. Gilman is a tiger in the sack -- he complained of chest pain and shortness of breath during sex with his wife. Weaver and Gallant swap amused expressions at the reveal that Mr. Gilman's bony ass is ninety-three years horny. "Coco!" croaks Gilman. Weaver yells for Luka to help them load him onto a bed; when he appears, Gallant makes sure to shoot him a skeptical look. Luka looks back at him as if to say, "I can do Shakespeare in Croatian, Junior. You don't stand a chance." Chuny hands Gallant a note. Gallant skims it and blushes. "It's from Harkins," he announces, so that we know she didn't kick off after last week's shenanigans. "She's going home today. I've been helping her keep up with the assigned reading," Gallant continues, but you can't spell that without "ass," so I think we all know where Gallant's mind is. Then he glares at Luka again, just so we're all clear on the fact that Luka is a sinner and Gallant is a lovesick saint. "Still need me?" growls Luka at Weaver. She dismisses him, then changes her mind and sends him upstairs to check a post-intubation film on some random, inconsequential contrivance designed to get Luka to the ICU in time for his scheduled attack of conscience.

Pratt wheels the Great Illinois Chainsaw Massacre into Trauma Yellow. His face is covered in blood and he's still wailing. Mrs. SUV aptly notes, "This is bad," and decides she should run away to call her husband. While Pratt and Carter assess the victim, Officer Give It Up Already enters, toting an unhappy Jerry and another, sterner-looking cop. "I understand you blew off Officer [Bitchery]," intones the new cop. Apparently, "What's All This, Then?" Theater takes precedence over a massive head wound and a fractured pelvis. Poor old Officer Slave to Carter's Metal Detectors had his ego bruised, but Jethro over there had his thruster disconnected, and I think that might just be a trifle more urgent. Pratt points out as much, until an impatient Carter finally snaps at Jerry to keep the cops out of the trauma room. He also needs a native Spanish speaker to communicate with Jethro. "I need to speak with [Pratt]," Detective Pushy insists, but Carter sharply orders him out. Pratt meets his boss's eyes sheepishly. "It's not what you think it is," he begins, but Carter silences him with a glare.

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