Mark rocks Rubberella in the PICU, and I must say, he appears damned crabby about it. He's all, "She smells like tires!" Elizabeth enters quietly. "Did she eat?" she asks. "She passed out," Mark replies. "Have you?" Mark has neither passed out nor eaten. "Go, I'll take her," Elizabeth says gracelessly. Mark wants to talk, but Elizabeth puts her foot down all over his spinal cord and refuses to say one more word about the evil cocktail of genetics and adolescence that's brooding at home. She sits down with Rubberella, and Mark turns briskly and exits, saying nothing and barely looking at his wife. Elizabeth stares emptily after him.