Desk. Weaver sets Mr. Whiskers down and Randi snaps, "What the hell is that?!" Dr. Dave excitedly snatches it, saying that he remembers Mr. Whiskers and asking whether Weaver got it on eBay. Weaver blandly informs him that Princess Taffeta was the patient who maced him. Weaver grabs it back just as Dr. Dave muses that it might be worth a lot of money. Randi opines that it "looks like roadkill."
Finch rolls up to ask why a priest is performing an exorcism on Lynda. Dr. Dave, accompanying her in the walk to Lynda's room, says that it's the hospital chaplain, that it's more of a blessing than an exorcism, and that it should work: "I think her problem's psychosomatic." Finch asks whether this assessment is "based on [his] vast knowledge of psychiatry," and he says it's "that, and the fact that her grandma caught her messing around with the boyfriend. It's all about guilt." The incredibly cheery chaplain we've already seen many times comes out of Lynda's room and says he thinks she'll be fine. Sure enough, she's no longer nauseated and is, in fact, very hungry. Finch says she wants to admit Lynda and perform some more tests, and Lynda's like, "Whatever, dude, just hook a sister up with a Slim Jim." Dr. Dave gloats at his own "nice catch." Finch says she still wants to perform some tests, and Dr. Dave asks, "Why? Because you can't admit that a surgeon and a pediatrician got outsmarted by a goomba?" Hee! What? I mean, shut up, Dr. Da...no, I can't. That was funny. Finch smirks by way of denial, and Dr. Dave continues, "Yeah. Don't sweat it. You're not the first to be deceived by my rugged good looks and boyish charm." Sigh. He's even outsmarted me. DAMN HIM.
Psych ward. As Lisa slowly walks down the hall in the background (in focus), carrying a pasteboard suitcase, the desk is in the foreground (more or less out of focus). The camera pans along the desk as we hear Mitchell reading, "'By signing, you acknowledge that your doctors feel it's in your best interest to remain hospitalized, and that you accept and understand by leaving against medical advice, you risk a deterioration of your psychiatric symptoms.'" By now, the camera is trained on Mitchell and Sally, with Lisa framed between them, down the hall. Sally, making to sign the form Mitchell's holding, asks, "What about my meds?" Lisa stops and waits. Both Mitchell and Sally glance over at her, and Sally asks, "Can I have a prescription?" Mitchell's all tough love, "I will give you three days' worth. I want to see you Monday. If you're doing well, then I'll give you a week's worth." "Okay," Sally murmurs. Mitchell sternly asks, "'Okay,' what? What does that mean?" Sally nervously fidgets with her hair and asks, "Can I call you?" Mitchell perfunctorily says, "Sure. You can call me anytime. You can call me just to talk." She leaves, and Sally reluctantly turns to look at Lisa.