Sam passes by and gawks at the baby, and then moves on toward triage. She notices that the little girl from earlier is sitting there alone, and curiously investigates. The girl timidly says that her father's coming right back after work. "I'm okay," she insists. Sam takes her hand and leads her into the ER.
Neela's all kinds of crabby as she works on Bizarro Rex. Dr. Olivera shouts instructions at her as she tries to insert the tube. "I can't see. Wipe my brow," she tells Weenie. "What?" he asks. "WIPE MY BROW," she shouts. Bizarro makes a mental note to invent a self-cleaning forehead to gift her with when he's out of there, because he's just that kind of infant -- until Rex has him killed, that is. The pressure equalizes and Dr. Olivera enters to help -- which, here, seems to mean that he stands there and watches Neela curiously while she works.
Susan calls her father, but she's too distracted to say anything of import. "Tell him," mouths Abby. But Nolan the Monoxide Dad comes in, so Susan hangs up abruptly. He wants to know how Bizarro Rex is, and she promises to check. Then Gallant grabs Susan and tells her that their young grandmother Nancy has been puking because she's pregnant. "Want me to tell her?" he asks. Susan says she will, and asks him to call the chamber and find out about Samuel. Finally, she meets up with Nancy and breaks the news. Nancy can't believe she's pregnant, because she's on birth control and she's apparently never seen a TV movie in her life. Susan tells her that St. John's Wort can render birth-control pills ineffective. Nancy totally wants to scream "holy shit" and run down the hall waving her hands and wailing, but suppresses the urge.
A trauma comes in: a couple found at home with multiple stab wounds. "It was the drugs," moans the woman. "It wasn't his fault!" They're bathed in blood and get wheeled to separate trauma rooms.
Luka sets a man's broken hand. A creepy old dude shuffles past begging for change. "What do you think you're doing?" snaps Luka. The old guy spies the little girl, Christy, and decides to ask her for cash. Because eight-year-olds are frequently dripping with it. She's not a juvenile hooker, old man. "Leave her alone and get back to your bed," Luka shouts. But he doesn't get up, which is lovely of him, so the old man leans in and horks up something tasty onto Christy's shirt. She freaks, naturally, as one would when aged and reeking lung tissue takes up residence on one's clothing. Sam drags the old doofus away while Luka tries to comfort the little girl. He's appalled to hear that the girl was left there alone, and orders Sam to put her in a room to keep her safer.