A guy tore his rotator cuff during a game of some kind with his hypercompetitive sister. Would've been funnier if they'd gone ahead and cast David Schwimmer. Chuck shows up and interrupts Susan with a bouquet of flowers, a smile, and a flourish. She looks mortified. Malarkey and NotSchwimmer sit back and watch this with amused smiles. "Thank you," Susan says awkwardly. "Don't thank me, thank some dead guy from Mercy," jokes Chuck. Susan decides not to see the charm in this, because the writers have decided to give her doubts. Chuck wiggles his eyebrows and asks Susan if she wants to get together for some late-night pumpkin pie, and although I'm pretty sure he wants to throw some nooky in there as well, I'm equally sure that he really does intend to sit there with her and get down and dirty on some dessert. "I'm beat," Susan says, shaking her head with one of those really uncomfortable screwed-up facial expressions that's intended to convey regret but which really means, "Dear God, I can't think of anything I'd like less, short of letting Romano loofah my inner thigh with his chin." Chuck is perceptive enough to pick up on the disconnect. Susan, flustered that he's calling her on it, pretends she's fine and just a little tired. "Of me?" Chuck asks, a bit gingerly. Aw! Susan conveniently gets interrupted before she can answer: a gunshot victim is en route. With an aw-shucks smile, Susan bids adieu to Chuck and hands Frank the flowers.