Sam treats Westbrook as he wakes up in Trauma Yellow. "You're at County," she tells him. "You got clipped by a tow truck." Elizabeth orders him not to move his leg. Westbrook announces that he's going to call his lawyer, because he'd rather get treated anywhere than County, what with the assholes and the promise of people's stray hairs drifting into his body cavities. Elizabeth warns him that he's bleeding internally, but basically Westbrook would rather die than lie down for any of the doctors at this place, ostensibly because he hasn't met Luka yet. Pratt angrily orders Westbrook not to use his cell phone, but Westbrook persists, so Pratt snatches it out of his hand and slams it down onto the instrument tray.
Cue Romano. He glides in on an oil slick of his own greasy sycophantism, telling Westbrook that they'll basically do whatever he wants them to do, and Pratt will be disciplined for stealing his mobile, and if he needs any massages or blowjobs or a toupee made of Sam's unkempt locks, well, they'll make it all work. Elizabeth shoots him a glare and then announces that they're taking Westbrook up to CT. "After a few tests, we'll work on a transfer," he says. "You're in excellent hands with Dr. Corday. Believe me, I envy you." Well, maybe Romano needs a different approach, then. He should try telling Elizabeth that he has life-threatening internal bleeding...in his penis.
Romano grabs Pratt and pulls him aside. "That guy is the biggest real-estate developer in Chicago," Romano lectures. "More like the biggest prick," Pratt mutters. Wow. That's the pot whispering to the cookie sheet that the kettle looks a little rough around the edges and could use a Palmolive scrub. Romano points out that Westbrook is a VIP; Pratt argues that he shouldn't get special treatment. Apparently "special treatment" means "a transfer that's totally ill-advised but upon which he's insisting," and frankly, if I were that VIP, I'd want them to ignore my sorry ass. "He could have an ongoing hemorrhage," Pratt points out, but Romano counters that the only mistake he's made is letting Pratt continue to practice medicine. "You're willing to compromise patient care so you can suck up!" Pratt spits. Romano boots him off the case, and just as Pratt rejoices that his name will be left off the malpractice suit when Westbrook's spleen bleeds out of his nose, Romano drops the bomb that he's firing Pratt. Suddenly, Romano is the bravest, smartest man in all the world. "You just pissed me off for the last time," Romano sneers, exiting. Pratt stares after him, dumbfounded. We fade to black feeling a sudden rush of warmth for Go-Go-Gadget Utah Fist Of Rage.