"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH," screams Ken the Florist, sitting up bone-straight in his bed. "Pratt, what are you doing down there?" asks an exasperated Susan. "Lewis, what are you doing up there?" he snarks. "He's got no DP pulse." Susan, remaining controlled, slowly explains that she's performing the requisite trauma assessment. "Lungs clear, chest tones normal..." she begins. Pratt uncovers Ken's dislocated left foot, which is practically at a right-angle from where it should be, and purple as a plum. It's utterly foul. "Sweet Jesus," Haleh says. Impatient with the rules, Pratt asks Chen if he can borrow her hands. Presumably, he puts them on Ken's leg. "Hold tight," Pratt says. "Ken, been to Hawaii before?" Ken shakes his head. "Pretend you're there now," Pratt advises him before yanking on the foot. With a crunching noise, it repositions. Ken unleashes an unearthly scream, but it turns into bubbling joy. "I feel better! I feel totally better!" he giggles with glee. Chen groans, "I feel sick," and exits hastily, as if she hasn't seen worse before. Odd. Susan gawks at this. "Why would you reduce an ankle with no pain meds?" she marvels, baffled. "No pulse, no blood; it's dead tissue," Pratt triumphs. "In other words, I just saved your foot." Ken is grateful. Susan glares at Pratt, but it bounces off his bulletproof ego.
Elizabeth and Weaver scrutinize Supernintendo's x-rays and disagree over the diagnosis. Elizabeth thinks it's an aortal problem, but Weaver wants to debate it a bit longer and this doesn't sit well with Madam Snit. Elizabeth talks right over Weaver, addressing Carter directly and barely even acknowledging that Kerry has a functioning mouth. "I think there's more to discuss here!" Weaver blurts desperately. "Kerry, I'm a trauma surgeon, and last time I checked, you weren't Chief of Staff," Elizabeth says imperiously, stalking out in what manages to be an eerily calm huff. "Uh, keep me apprised," Kerry chokes out before dashing after Elizabeth. Carter just stands there being window-dressing.
Luka tends to Tammy in the triage area -- which is, given the overload, the hallway. She wants to see the Supernintendo, but Luka calmly explains that they have to make sure his heart isn't bruised and his lungs aren't further damaged. Tammy babbles. She's shaken. She's worked for Chalmers for two years, six days a week, ten hours a day. "I spend more time with him than his wife does," she says. There's a dreamy quality to her rambling to which Luka connects, glancing up at her quickly. "They're really happy, though," she sputters defensively. "She's lucky to have him. He's a good man." Luka stares at her for a second. Abby interrupts by wheeling Ricky into a nearby room and calling for Luka to help irrigate the bullet wound; Luka pats Tammy on the shoulder and leaves her side.