Elizabeth and Kerry confab about a patient we don't care about at all, just long enough for Elizabeth to notice that a zoned-out Weaver isn't listening. "Let me guess," she smiles. "Henry's got colic and you're barely sleeping." Kerry nods and they compare notes on the terrible twos versus infancy. "I hate to say it, but in some ways, it gets harder," says Elizabeth. Kerry commiserates that it must be twice as hard when you're alone: "Any prospects?" Elizabeth stops on the stairs and looks totally privately stunned that Weaver's showing conversational interest. She turns and says, "Uhh...I met a teacher recently. He's a nice man." But she doesn't know what to say after that. "Nice is good," Weaver manages. "Yes, it's...nice," says Elizabeth. They blink. They're either going to part ways, or flop down and paint their toenails while talking about sex and chocolate. In the same second, they choose the former, sufficiently wigged for today that they've just...gulp...bonded.
Sam breezes in a minute before her shift is scheduled to start. Malik appreciatively cedes both his seat in triage and the patient he was seeing -- a little girl. Sam takes a look at her throat and nods that it's pretty red. My screen goes black here, so I can hear Sam saying that they need a throat culture, but I've no idea what's happening on screen. This had better not be the day Luka decides to streak the ER. The father is alarmed -- ah, there's my picture -- to hear that it'll take six to eight hours to get to his daughter; he's got to go to work. "It'll be okay," the little girl says bravely. Sam points them to chairs.
Luka sneaks up behind Sam and whispers in her ear about whether Alex is okay. "I don't know," she says, looking both mortified and tickled that she can feel Luka's breath on her neck. Luka tantalizingly offers to have them over that night to talk, promising to cook and let Alex watch something on the big-screen TV. He's practically licking her ear. Sam looks like she's using every ounce of her strength to resist him. She's a stronger woman than I am. A patient interrupts, so she pushes her chair away and brushes Luka off with a quick smile. Luka looks disappointed.