Finders Keepers

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Finders Keepers

The cops arrive in Trauma Green to take Rushing's statement about his children. He's crying and breathing with difficulty. "I just remember crying...they were so scared," he sniffles. "They're dead, aren't they?" Luka digests this information about imperiled children, runs a pocket metal detector over Rushing, and finds just enough traces of anvil to merit a brief brood.

Romano enters and crabs that they're approaching the six-hour mark. Luka admits that he's been trying to keep Rushing there in case his family turns up. Romano, not surprisingly, has no sympathy for this. "Turf him to Medicine," he snaps. "Let him hold hands and sing Kum-Ba-Yah there." Luka tries to fight him, so Romano accuses Luka of going soft from the mandatory therapy. Then he crosses the line: He whips out the Crazy Finger. Luka tenses. There's no going back now. "Stop seeing a shrink," Romano derides. "I don't believe in it, and if you're that screwed up, quit." Satisfied that he's begun shedding and shredding his professionalism, Romano stalks out and runs smack into Haleh. "Where the hell have you been, Helen?" he snaps. "Get back to work." Haleh smartly doesn't care enough to say anything.

Susan continues wheeling Scarecrow around. Scarecrow is complaining of a headache. I think that about covers it.

Pratt sprints to a store to look for a present for Chen, but it's closed. Desperately, he looks around and settles his gaze on his old nemesis, Kippy, who is crutching around beautifully on what looks like Kerry's old metal friend. "I need something a lady could wear," Pratt pants. I'm a big believer in the thought counting for a lot, but this is pretty half-assed and stupid even for Pratt. He must be fabulous in the sack to think he can get away with this. Kippy rifles through his collection of crappy goods until he finally finds a narrow wooden box. Pratt opens it and cocks an eyebrow at the contents. "How much?" he asks, interested.

Chen's birthday cake has a stethoscope made of icing, and is frosted green. It looks like an infection. Romano runs a finger through it and licks it. "A woman pops out a kid, what the hell difference does it make what day it is?" he bitches, outlawing all official and unofficial celebrations of staff birthdays. I would think he'd be all about toasting a woman's intense labor pains, bleeding, and screaming. He grabs a chunk out of the cake and shoves it in his mouth, and oh my God, it looks good. Romano brats that birthdays equal singing and merriment that eat up a paid half-hour of the work day. "It fosters community," Susan sing-songs. Like he cares. Romano lectures her for keeping Scarecrow around when all she had was a fractured wrist. "She's complaining of a headache," Susan explains. Romano refuses to listen, allowing only one complaint per customer. Again, that's ass. I don't care if he's got no background in ER medicine; he's worked there for ages, he's been around it, and what's more, he's a doctor. Even if he is trying to push colleagues' buttons so that one of them will snap, it doesn't seem normal that he'd take it out on the patients and half-ass their care. I don't buy that he's self-sabotaging to the point of being willing to invite lawsuits and a messier firing.

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