Neela tiredly enters her apartment, which I understand she shares with Ray, and tosses her bag on the couch. This wakes up a loiterer who has been snoozing there while clutching his guitar. Deep. "Hey, Dr. Neela," he yawns. "Hey, Bret," she says. If only it were Bret Michaels. A girl can dream. "Girlfriend kick you out again?" Neela snarks. He quickly tells her that they've broken up, and in the same breath offers her a mix CD he burned for her that's entirely blues music. Apparently he knows she's ignorant of that genre and wants to teach her all about it. Just then, Ray flushes the toilet and emerges from the bathroom, confirming my worst suspicion that Shane West is still being paid to participate in things. When Bret disappears into the bathroom, Ray apologizes for the human throw pillow he left on the couch. "I'm getting used to finding random rockers passed out in our living room," Neela snaps. Ray defends Bret's coolness, which to me is like Charles Manson calling to get me to lay off O.J. Simpson, already, because the guy has a cuddly soul and baby-soft hands. Ray thinks Bret likes Neela, and points out that it's hard to meet people, and life is rough, yada yada, but Neela isn't having it and silences him with a look.
At her desk, Neela puts pen to paper, and we hear her voice-over read aloud the words she writes: "Dear Michael: It's been months since I heard from you. I've been reading the paper and watching the news, and it's hard not to worry. But I'm sure you're taking care of yourself."
Cut to Gallant writing Neela a letter. His voice-over picks up, along the same theme: "Sorry I've been so out of touch. They keep me pretty busy here, with all the parties." Sand orgies! I knew it!
Back to Neela: "Everyone here asks after you. I think about you often, even at odd moments." We see her turn around after buying a cup of coffee, at which point she is confronted by the sight of a shmoopy couple feeding each other and making kissy faces. She looks like she wants to dump her coffee over their heads so it will scald and disfigure their love. "I wonder how you're doing," she VOs.
Gallant VO, while he tends a wounded man: "You probably don't even remember what I look like. I'm the tall, good-looking guy with the best bedside manner in the place." Pause. "Tell Pratt I said that." But who will judge? Tell you what, I'll do the selfless thing and volunteer myself for a bedside-manner-off. Whoever pampers me the most wins. I'm giving Gallant a one-year head start and some clippers.