In an indoor gym, Pratt and Gallant are playing basketball with some cronies. Testosterone is oozing from everything. It drips into my eyes. Oh, it burns. Pratt is pushing and shoving whoever he's defending, and he's getting as good as he gives. Gallant breaks up a near-fight; the next time Pratt goes up for a shot, he gets slammed back into a bleacher, cutting the palm of his hand. Everyone stops and stares at him. Pratt checks out his palm, stands up slowly, wipes it onto the white front of his Sean John tank top, and snarls. Nobody messes with his Diddywear. Nobody. He charges at his opponent, but Gallant breaks it up again. "Forget about it. We won," Gallant says. I guess Pratt made the shot. "Next week," Pratt growls at the guy, pointing at him. Lordy, I hope not. "That's what I thought," huffs his opponent.
Carter is surprised to see Abby at the hospital. He can't believe she's actively being benevolent. "I heard what happened and I thought we might need the help," she says. Except the earlier scene sort of made it sound like she got paged to come in and assist. I suppose it's possible someone just paged her to deliver the news, and she said "I'll be right in" out of the goodness of her heart. She does have a heart, even if she's not always using it. Carter exposits that they only ended up with one patient because the others went straight to the morgue. Then, he apologizes for not coming over last night. "It's okay. Maggie and I played Scrabble," she says. "I got a 75-point word: cyanotic." She's all proud. "She challenged it," Abby adds smugly.
Jerry turns up the volume on the news, which is covering the Doc Magoo's tragedy with such gems as "what got served...was a cold-blooded robbery and homicide." And the killers didn't even leave a tip. Carter and Abby watch for a second, and then move to the Translucent Patient Board of Making Life Easier For the Directors. "Any word on Eric?" he asks. "I don't expect any," she says, surprisingly calm. "It's like a bear hibernating -- he won't come out until spring." Carter pretends he's having an epiphany that they should go out for sushi that night, just the two of them. Abby is underwhelmed and instead chooses to drive Maggie to the bus station. "She's leaving?" he asks. "Is that a good thing?" Abby purses her lips. "I don't know," she admits. "It was kinda nice having a roommate."
As Abby leaves, an eavesdropping Susan chides Carter for his super-lame and unromantic suggestion of a sushi dinner. What she doesn't know is that a platter of cold fish is, in reality, a shockingly apt metaphor for Abby and Carter's sex life. "I hope you have a better plan than that," she says. Probably not, but he will now. Carter's all, Hey, baby, it's all about keeping the bitches on their toes. "I don't want to show my hand to her," he says. "Well, the two of you have had enough misdirection," Susan snorts. "Trust me. Show your hand." Carter doesn't know how to take this, so he just blinks a lot and blatantly ignores the conventional wisdom that he should get a haircut.