Romano shows up downstairs so that he can get in Kerry's face yet again. He very pleasantly remarks that he noticed the alderman was still outside in plain view rather than in a private room, which isn't acceptable because it doesn't adhere to the strict Sucking Up policy that's been enforced in County on this fine day. "He didn't want [a room]," Weaver points out. Romano doesn't care. "You should've given him a private room, he should've had two doctors and five nurses hovering over him every minute," he crabs. Weaver sneers that they only have five nurses on duty at any given time, yet this isn't enough to appease the Rocket. He wants them to bend over and pander until their joints are well nigh sore.
Back at the Carter Family Foundation Multi-Million-Dollar Brat Pack Extravapalooza, Abby finds Carter, who I think is downing a drink. "That was a little rude," she pouts, referring to his flouncing away and abandoning Abby with his wrinkled, judgmental grandmother. "Stay out of it," Carter warns her quite curtly. Abby's eyes fly open. "So was that," she bristles with a smirk as a woman on stage begins speaking. Carter whispers fiercely that Gamma wants him to stop working, and that this is her best way to try and do that. Abby figures Gamma's just an old biddy who wants young shoulders to carry some of her burden. Carter delivers a bitterly sarcastic tirade about the so-called family business -- as in, ribbon-cutting and "waving to the common man" and giving away money. "Prince Charles without the castle," he spits. Is that what this is about? Because little John-boy could buy a freaking castle, if his heart desired. He looks so petulant. Abby observes that Gamma's boasting a fairly palatial estate, to which Carter snaps that even if she means well, Abby shouldn't meddle in his life. Then, just to be literal about it, Mr. My Girlfriend Won't Let Me Meddle In Her Family Life gets up and puts his shoes on the other feet. Then he trots up to the podium to hand a ten-million-dollar check to the event's organizer. Carter seems uneasy as Abby weaves through the crowd, staring at him contemplatively.
Little David calls out for his father. "I fell off the top bunk," he whimpers. Luka promises to take care of him, and sends him away to a room with Chuny. Jerry hands Luka the kid's x-rays, and Luka cursees softly. "Is DCFS still around?" he asks. Suddenly, David's father, Mr. Scott, appears in search of his son. Luka regards him with deep skepticism. "He has a broken wrist and he hit his head," he intones. "He gets hurt all the time," sighs Mr. Scott. "More and more since his Mom left." Luka coughs that the x-rays reveal older, more suspicious injuries. "He doesn't pay attention," shrugs Mr. Scott. Then, he realizes what Luka's implying. "Are you suggesting that I hurt my own son?" Luka snarls, "Do you?" Mr. Scott deeply resents this accusation, especially because, hello, the kid got hurt when only the babysitter was home. Does Luka think Mr. Scott climbed through the upstairs window just for the privilege of cracking his son's head and getting away with it? Points for effort, Luka, but...wuh?