Benton ambushes a doctor at a posh-looking private hospital. Doctor Private is all "very late," "offered it to someone else," "credentials are excellent," blah blah blah dodgecakes. Benton finally twigs and begs Doctor Private to tell him what Romano said about Benton. Doctor Private carefully allows, "You may have difficulty finding work locally." Well, I, for one, am shocked -- shocked -- that Romano would behave so unprofessionally. Except that I'm totally not, and I'm surprised Benton hasn't already caught Romano breaking into his (or Finch's) house and taking a crap on his living-room carpet, just to hammer the message home.
A Senile Old Dude with a bleeding nose appears behind Weaver and starts yelling at her that it's "eleven-hundred hours" and that he needs to ship out. She gathers that he's waiting for a transfer and tries to steer him gently toward a nurse. He yelps, "We're taking Inchon!" "Inchon?" Weaver repeats, and a passing Frank informs her that it's in Korea, and was the site of a huge battle during the war. Lisa appears to reclaim Senile Old Dude, apologetically telling Weaver that "he's a wanderer." As Lily helps Senile Old Dude into a wheelchair and takes him off, Weaver asks what his story is, and Lisa says he's from a nursing home: "Altered mental status. They said he became combative -- picked a fight, got punched in the nose." The military talk just started a few days ago. His nose isn't broken, but he has a low-grade temperature with no obvious signs of infection. Weaver tells Lisa to order a bunch of tests. Blah bling bling.
Carter irrigates the wound of Tin Can Cut, who's amiably telling Carter, "The damn tab busted off." Carter flatly inquires, "Ever think of using a can opener?" Well, this guy isn't stupid, folks: "Yeah, sure -- then what's the point of having a tab? I started digging around the edges, there..." Carter tells Tin Can Cut that he'll probably need a few stitches, but he's nowhere near finished his engrossing narration: "Of course, that makes the tuna juice leak out, and then it starts getting greasy all over, and then BAM! The knife goes right into my hand." If Tin Can Cut proves to have any Tin Can Kids, I will be really horrified for the human race. Carter isn't paying much attention, because he's busy loading up a syringe with some sweet, sweet candy. But, for the patient, for a change. He tells Tin Can Cut that he's going to numb the area around which he'll be suturing. Carter seems so distracted and twitchy with the needle in his hand that even Tin Can Cut is moved to interrupt his heartbreaking tale of tuna denied to ask, "Are you sure you've done this before?" Lisa walks in just as Carter has the syringe poised for injection, and breezily tells him she's just looking for some I & D kits. She turns around, sees Carter with the needle, and stops dead. Well. Nice expression of confidence in your sponsee, Lisa. Casual, too. Because I wouldn't have noticed that at all. If I were Helen Keller. Which is to say, if I were blind, deaf, and DEAD. And Carter looks guilty, too, which helps exactly not at all. Anyway, she stares at Carter, and he administers the injection, warning Tin Can Cut that he may feel a little burning. He tells Lisa he was thinking of attending "the eight o'clock tonight," and asks if she will join him. "I don't know. Maybe," she offers, distractedly. Again. Shitty sponsor. I mean, I like her and all, and I know that when he asked her to be his sponsor, she tried to refuse, and he basically wouldn't take no for an answer. Still, she took the job, so she should at least pretend to be a tiny bit more committed to it than she is. At this point she looks as if her next line might be, "Carter, was it? The eight o'clock what?" She flounces out. Carter sets to his task. Tin Can Cut muses, "You know, the exact same thing happened when I tried to open a carton of milk with a pair of scissors..." Hee! Carter shoots him an unmistakable "you're an idiot" look.