Abby collects herself and jerks upright, griping to Frank, "Why are you telling me this?" Frank tsks that her break is over, so Abby gives the letter one last, pained look, and then slowly crumples it up and tosses it at the trash can. But she misses, because she couldn't play basketball with George Clooney back in the day, since she wasn't on the show then. "That's right, leave me to pick up after you," Frank grumbles, grabbing the paper and not even pretending to think about throwing it out before he unfolds it and begins to read.
Cooper chases after Pratt, sucking on his inhaler as he tries to keep up. Man, Coop really does look like a mini-Vaughn, which is a whole lot better than Wee Chen. Pratt's carrying an enormous stack of charts and files. "You're Pratt, right?" Cooper asks. "Yeah," Pratt growls. "I'm Nick Cooper. My friends call me Coop," says Coop. He asks a question about protocol, and Pratt's clearly kind of annoyed that a new person's asking him for help. "Listen, you guys gotta start picking it up. It's already 10:30 and we're twenty patients behind," he sighs. "I got six," argues Coop. "But the other two guys are dragging their asses," whines Pratt. Coop tries to stick up for them, to his credit, and then grabs the stack of files as a peace offering. "We'll blast through these," he says. "They're out the door in twenty." Pratt waves him off brusquely, because he's a shit.
Neela speaks softly in Punjabi as she sutures a man's forehead. Pratt overhears and stops curiously. "What's that you're saying?" he asks. "It was a prayer," Neela says. "He's not dying," Pratt smarms. "It wasn't for him. It's a private prayer," Neela says. "Like, 'Please, Lord, don't let me kill somebody today'?" Pratt teases. Shut up, Pratt. Dr. Jing-Mei "The Joy Luck Deb" Chen catches the two of them talking, and blows in on her frigid wind to give Neela some gangrenous frost bite. She sends the med student on a tedious and long errand, and I can't even stand to listen to her. Once Neela's gone, Pratt purrs, "Hey there." Chen reacts smugly to being Queen of the Dicksmacks and husks, "Don't forget, dinner tonight [at] 8...I'm wearing my little black dress." Pratt chortles in delight. He knows what this means: time to dust off the assless chaps.
Malarkey and Susan are hanging out in Trauma Yellow. Coop pokes his head in, not wanting to miss anything gory. As Susan teaches, Malik enters with Elle's x-rays and throws them up on the light board. "That's a huge heart," Coop says. Susan's face falls. "Call Cards. She's in failure," she says sadly, looking at Elle through the blinds.