"Oh, MAN!" Susan chatters in the lobby. Frank trots over merrily, extolling the joy of an empty waiting room and low patient traffic. "Nothing like Arctic temperatures to keep the freaks at home," he crows. Onto the table, he dumps a box of Burberry-glazed Krispy Kreme donuts that play Cake songs and drive Jeeps painted to look like Tylenol. Susan complains that the hospital thermostat is broken, and Michael "Smell Ya Later, Benton" Gallant shows up to point out that maintenance workers are working on the problem. Frank, though, doesn't like the freezing weather. "This is what we get for punching holes in the Ozone Layer," Frank grumbles. No, this is what you get for living in Chicago. Susan points out that the Greenhouse Effect is supposed to make things warmer. That's what passes for a joke on this show. Abby wheels in Icicle Andy, apparently a recurring wintertime patient, and Gallant ships him off to an exam room while Susan makes Abby remove her plain winter overcoat and don one in fashionable plaid instead.

Icicle Andy's vital signs grow weaker, and Susan decides he's probably got pneumonia. The man's face is crusty and almost gangrenous; his blackened fingers most definitely are gangrenous. Abby tries to take his pulse ox, and snaps off his finger in the process. It makes a clean cracking noise, like breaking a twig. She yelps in disgust and holds up the charred-sausage finger. "He gave you the finger, huh, Abby?" Malik grins. Gallant wonders if they can reattach it. "Not without superglue," Susan snickers. Abby, suddenly, is cracking up as silently as she can. Makes me wonder if this scene required a bunch of takes and netted a dozen finger-related practical jokes. I can just see Malik popping it in his mouth.

A blond, cherubic little boy confusedly peeks into the room. "Mother?" he asks. "No, Ruprecht, this is not your mother," Abby explains. So little Ruprecht picks up his pots and yells "Oklahoma" until his contract is up. Abby tries to dismiss him, but he's lost and looking sadly for his mother. "She's not in here," Abby says. "Yes she was," whimpers Ruprecht pathetically. Abby hands off her duties to Gallant, and escorts Ruprecht to the lobby in search of his mother. She's confused by Ruprecht's stubborn insistence that his mother was in a trauma room. Abby also gets his name: Douglas Leeman. His mother is B. Just B. Because she's busy, she gently fobs Douglas off on Frank. "He's good at finding people's moms," she offers lamely. Frank, cranky on the surface, is a big galoot on the inside. That's right, I said "galoot." And I meant it. He squats, squints and stares Douglas right in the eye. "You like donuts?" he asks, very seriously. Douglas' eyes widen adorably.