Cut to Pratt sitting in the lounge, changing the dressing on his palm wound. Chen enters. "Hey," she says softly, bending down and kissing him gently. "I don't know whose day was worse -- yours or mine," he sighs. Chen sits down and shakily admits that she never thought she'd see anything like that. "It's a lot different when they roll in on a gurney," she breathes. Pratt commends her for staying strong and doing her job well. "I heard she gave an ID," he says of Trina. Chen shares that she filled in a few details, too, based on the glimpse she got as they fled. "They were black, huh?" he asks. "I think so," she says. "It was quick, you know? I only saw one of them." Pratt exhales. "That's why the cops are picking up brothers all over town," he realizes. Um, well, yeah. That's how it works when you have a lead. "I told them what I saw," Chen insists. "What you saw, or what you thought you saw?" he presses. Chen insists that she was trying to help the cops. "You fed right into what they always want to jump to," he argues. Dude, you weren't there. Don't tell her what she saw. "So, what, now I'm a racist?" Chen spits. Pratt stares at her. "It's just hard not to feel that everybody is when you're lying face down in the street with a cop's foot to the back of your neck," he murmurs.