Anspaugh grabs Pratt for their little tête-à-tête; Weaver's too busy to join them, and Romano's not around. "Why in God's name did he insist on meeting tonight?" Anspaugh complains. He sighs and then explains to Pratt that Romano sent him a file of disciplinary letters. "Sometimes we don't see eye to eye on things," Pratt says diplomatically...by which I mean, blatantly lies. The height differential between Pratt and Romano alone is enough to ensure that "sometimes" is a complete fib. Anspaugh allows that there's enough documentation to support a suspension. "I may have been out of line..." Pratt begins. Anspaugh interrupts him. "Baloney," he snorts. "I don't give credence to these. If they were true, I'd get complaints from other attendings, and obviously Robert doesn't care enough to even show up." God, he's that blasé about a file full of complaints? Pratt's pissed off at least two consults who promised to report him to Romano. That really ought to be evidenciary support. Bastards. Anspaugh smooches booty and tells Pratt that he's an excellent physician, from what Anspaugh saw today. Pratt smiles smugly, because his self-esteem had plummeted to a mere fifty times the average, and it was long past time for some ego-inflation.
Alex chirps that he wants French toast, but Sam tells him not to order that because it's Thanksgiving and he should eat turkey. Alex asks Luka if he would order French toast. Luka gets a vibe off this and diplomatically says that he doesn't care for it, so it's a moot point. Alex tells him that he and Sam should order pancakes, and then Alex can have his French toast, and they'll fill the turkey quota with a sausage. Luka and Sam shift in their seats. Alex picks up a figurine on the table that looks like it was a Pilgrim, and tips it into the candle flame. Sam watches this for what feels like a second too long before sort of half-assedly taking it away and asking, "Why would you do that?" Alex replies, "Payback." No idea whom he's lashing out at here. Sam thinks it's her, and apologizes for their plans' having fallen through, but I wonder if Alex is just getting revenge on the Pilgrims for bringing their Puritanical views and tall hats to a place that didn't want them. Luka -- hip to the fact that this isn't a fight he needs to see -- goes to wash his hands. Sam stares at his ass as he goes up the stairs -- at least, I assume she's this kind of right-thinking woman -- and then turns very suspiciously to her son. "Why did you invite him?" she demands. Alex insists that he and Luka are friends. "You shouldn't have friends over thirty," Sam decides. She heaves a sigh of relief that she fielded that one despite not having her parenting desk calendar backlog at her fingertips. "I like him. He's cool," Alex decides. "I know what you're trying to do," Sam says, speaking for all of us. Alex insists that he isn't, and airily tells Sam, "You're probably not his type. Besides, he's my friend, not yours." Sam is totally floored. Apparently she's never met her son before.