Erin staggers into the doorway with a toothy grin and pleads with Luka to come hang out with the rest of the horny drunk staffers and dance. "Luka don't dance," he slurs with a sexy laugh. "Come on, show me some of those Croatian moves," Erin says, acting hammered and flirty, leaning against the doorframe and staring at him alluringly. Luka watches her. "In a minute," he finally says. Erin's all, Sure, fine, I can wait for sausage. She hugs the doorframe for an extra second before trotting out into Susan's living room. Right now, Luka must be kicking himself for all those dollars he blew on hookers when nubile med students are both free and easy.
A door slams. Erin helps Luka into his apartment. "Where's the bedroom at?" she asks, butchering the language heartlessly. "You go too fast," giggles Luka, slumping against a table. "Let's talk sweet nothings first." Oh, yeah, baby. God, I'm easy. Erin shakes her head. "You need sleep," she says, approaching him with a grin. "Erin," Luka says sweetly. "You're a very pretty girl." He reaches out and tugs on her scarf, then lets his hands linger there, and if I was Erin, I'd be a giant puddle on the floor right now. Their eyes connect, hers with a gleam of excitement and his with a gleam of horniness. He inches toward her, but she moves too, if only a fraction of how far he leans. She's definitely into it. They kiss for a few seconds, but it's tongueless and there's not much spark to it. But it still blows away the infamous "Lockdown" débacle. They break apart, and Erin peers at him with a teasing expression. "You know, if you're trying to seduce me, this is a very unconventional approach," she says. "You're supposed to get the girl drunk." Luka, with a wide, drink smile, says he thought she was drunk. His arms are hooked around her neck. Erin shakes her head. Which is either bull or bad acting, because Leslie Bibb sure played it like Erin was drunk at Susan's party. "The bedroom," Erin insists. Luka laughs. "I think it's up there," he says, his head lolling to one side.
Upstairs, Erin flips on the lights and leads Luka to the bed. He asks if she'll stay there, and Erin replies that she will -- on the couch. "There's more room in the bed," he slurs. "There always is," Erin sighs. She crouches at his feet and unties his shoes while Luka stares at her thoughtfully. We hear one more time that Luka's not working tomorrow, just in case the mailman got bogged down in holiday postal traffic, thus preventing us from getting it. "Why do you want to be a doctor?" he asks, softly. Erin shrugs. "Good at science?" she suggests. That's so the answer I expect from her -- no passion, just matter-of-fact. "I became a doctor to take care of people. Heal them," Luka says, swaying and dropping back onto the bed. Erin tucks him under a blanket. "You do, every day," she coos. "But strangers, only strangers," Luka mumbles. "And not tomorrow."