Susan interrupts that it seems Bright tore a ligament when he fell. "There goes my dream of being an Olympic gymnast," he jokes. Weaver laughs, because when the magic alderman conjures up a lighthearted crack, you either laugh or get put in the box and sawn in half. Weaver gives the order to page their top orthopedist. Nothing but the best for Chicago's #20 politico! A man in scrubs suggests they check a tox screen before they give him anything for the pain. "What?" they ask. "Who are you?" The man charges at Bright's bed. "Was it cocaine?" he shrieks. "Ray McGee, Chicago Times!" This is the part where you pretend you're working for your rival publication. And also, what a knob. Wait until the doctors have actually left the room. This man is the stupidest, second only to the two stupid doctors who didn't notice he was there in the first place. Weaver chucks him out. "Have you ever heard of the First Amendment?" he wails. "Have you ever heard of an awake colonoscopy?" she shouts in return. Then, in true Weaver form, she adds that he'd better return the stolen scrubs. Shame the alderman can't conjure up a few for her.
Susan teases Jerry about keeping out the fake nurses. "So many rules to remember," Jerry sighs. Dr. Luka "Erin Who?" Kovac overhears this and questions it, amused. "Don't ask," Susan grunts. "Don't we have enough trouble with the real ones?" grins Luka. Only if you bang them, baby. Still, that remark took balls. Fortunately, our boy probably has beautiful ones. Jerry snickers at this, but everyone else either pretends not to hear it, or doesn't care. Nice. Jerry gets off the horn and reports that a man from the I-40 pile-up -- you know, the one where the wounded are getting bused in from New Mexico or wherever the hell I-40 goes -- is en route, and Carter wants him to make sure it's Jessie's husband. Carter is wearing a tuxedo with a bow tie -- a crooked one, which isn't helping his lost-little-boy image. He looks like his name should be Skippy. "Ooh, hot date?" Susan asks. Carter downplays that he's dressed up to give away a large check at a symphony fundraiser. Susan acts a little impressed. Carter brandishes a chart and says, "Look what the patient fairy brought you!" He passes her the chart of a woman awaiting a chest film; Carter figures it's an easy prescription-and-dispo, so Susan decides she'll make Pratt do it. "He'll hate it!" she grins.
Abby charges through the front desk with a dress bag over her shoulder. Hee. A hag with a bag. A bag with a bag, even. "Ten minutes," she promises. Carter follows her down the hall, double-checking that she actually wants to go with him. Abby sasses that it's worth it for the free canapés alone. "What is a canapé, anyway?" she teases. Because she's déclassé, see. See? Carter stares at her. He sees. "Don't worry, I'll use the right fork," she rolls her eyes. "Next time, we'll do something fun -- we'll do something that you want to do," he promises. Next time? He makes it sound like this is their first date. Maybe he means, "Next time you clean up and wear a dress, we'll do something you want to do." Hmm. "Oh, you mean like golf, or bowling? Things my people enjoy doing?" Abby sasses. "Too bad Cats closed." Ha. With that, she muscles into the bathroom. "I'll just shut up now," Carter says to no one.