ER
Impulse Control

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Impulse Control

Pratt has gone from blowing off Miguel to being really suspicious of him. I'm sorry -- does anyone care about this subplot at all? Even a bit? Can I skip it? Because I think it's a sinkhole. Basically, Pratt wants to arrest Miguel for failing to take his meds, but Abby swears he just didn't understand the previous treatment directive, and she thinks she can make him see the light.

Sam suddenly decides that now would be a good time to chat with Arnie, but his pocket protector's in a tizzy over her behavior and he scurries off, scared it's going to explode and invite a Bic stain. Malarkey asks Sam if she's waiting for Weaver. "Don't hit her," he advises. "She's crippled." Frank laughs. That's all we need here: a soulmate for the soulless.

Weaver asks Sam how Ethan's doing, but basically uses that as a way to walk Sam away from Reception before delivering the blow: Arnie recommended that Weaver fire Sam. Apparently, they just now got around to calling her three references, and found out she's had prior incidents. This would have been more effective if they'd called these references before hiring her, instead of giving her the job after losing a game of rock-paper-scissors. Sam stiffly insists that she didn't get fired from any of those jobs; Weaver counters that Sam always left before anyone could fire her. "I'm a good nurse. If you want me here, fine. If not, I'll find another job that's just as good somewhere else," Sam bluffs. Weaver isn't fooled by this, and figures it's not the first time Sam's rattled off that little speech. "It's clear to everyone that you have an impulse-control problem," Weaver says. Based on what? Well, I guess she did rip off a man's prosthesis. Sam argues that Dean's a disgusting pig who helped his friends gang-rape Layla. Weaver reminds her that morality takes a back seat to potential lawsuits. Ethan has the discourtesy to start dying in the middle of this argument, so Weaver just tells Sam to speak to the head of nursing the next morning. "For what it's worth, I wish I'd hit him harder," Sam sasses. I sort of wish she had, too, because the kid had a week's worth of filth in his hair and a harder blow to the noggin might've knocked him clean.

Carter and Kem cuddle in a limo. They're on the way to the airport; this was actually Kem's last day. Carter tries to entice her with images of Chicago in the summer, but she's not swayed. "I can't live here, John," she says. "My work -- it's important." He looks all sad, like this comes as any kind of a surprise to him. Get over yourself, Carter. You're not as needy as two hundred AIDS patients are, no matter how bruised you were by growing up rich. Kem fantasizes that they should run away together and disappear. "No one would ever know," she sighs. Wait, what? She won't leave her work for Chicago, but she would if they ran off and vanished in, say, Paris? Kem, you're confusing me. Put a sock in it -- one of your big winter ones. Maybe it'll fatten you up.

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