I'll Be Home For Christmas

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Heathen: B | Grade It Now!
I'll Be Home For Christmas

Kerry and Sandy stroll down a quiet street in search of a particular Indian restaurant. They can't find it. Sandy looks quite fetching with her hair down. She smiles that she doesn't much care for Indian food anyway. "Why didn't you say something?" Weaver asks. "I just did," grins Sandy. Weaver spots an Italian place, but Sandy sasses that it's not looking too good, since it's closed. "You're kind of a pain in the ass, you know that?" Weaver sighs. But then she turns sly on us and invites Sandy back to her place for some takeout. "I like a take-charge kind of girl," purrs Sandy. This is giving the fanfic writers some ample fodder. The two depart for Weaver's love den.

Benton charges up to Romano and demands a moment of his time. "Do you hear something?" Romano asks Shirley. "That sounds like the voice of a doctor who makes promises he can't keep, and then hangs up on the man he breaks the promise with." Ugh. Get out of fifth grade, Robbie. You're cleverer than that. Shirley smirks and leaves. "I need to scale back my hours, and I need it in writing," Benton states, following Romano into his office. "To whom it may concern: No friggin' way," Romano spits. Benton assures him it's quite serious, and it's about Reese. He relays his nights-and-weekends-off plan, which meets with derisive laughter from Romano, who quite rightly assumes that Peter has gone insane. Romano is unsympathetic to the cause, glibly telling Benton that Reese has a stepfather, and a joint-custody agreement would let Peter stick with what he does best: surgery. "I'm not asking for your advice," Benton snarls. Romano is impatient. "News flash: this is an urban trauma center. Until people start planning their [multi-vehicle accidents] and [gunshot wounds] better, you're not punching a time clock," he shouts. "That's not me being a hard-ass. That's the job." He's kind of...well, right, even if he is rude about it. Benton leans onto the desk, the universal sign for "don't fuck with me." But Romano isn't budging. "Well, then consider this my resignation," Benton intones, leaving. "Don't go getting dramatic," Romano yells, once he realizes Peter really is prepared to leave. Romano rubs his shiny pate and reconsiders. "Weekends off," he offers. Ooh, that's better than I expected. "Take it or leave it," he tells Benton. Pause. Benton mulls it, then quietly says, "I'll finish out the week." Romano chides him for abandoning a promising career to play Mr. Mom, but Benton won't be swayed. He never turns around, never falters.

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