Carter, while wrapping her broken leg and foot, tells Anonymous that there's a golf-ball-sized growth near her ovaries. I think Anonymous is too young to know that her ovaries aren't in her mouth. She can treat it with antibiotics or surgery. Apparently, this golf ball was sexually transmitted, too, which can't have been fun for either party. Carter finally gets her real name: Tina Jones. "Well, Tina Jones, I don't know what got you here at twelve, but if you want to make it to twenty, you've got to stop smoking crack," Carter lectures. He offers to set her up in a detox bed today. "That'll fix everything," she says sarcastically. "It'll fix one thing," he offers. Malik interrupts to call Carter's attention to something else. "When can I get my money back?" Tina broods. Carter says he'll fork it over once she's set up in rehab. She's pretty sure he can't do that, and she's pretty right. But Carter doesn't care, because Justice has an iron fist, and right now it's a fist full of a pre-teen hooker's sweaty wad. "Sleeping with strangers for money," Carter tsks. "That's what you want?" Tina shrugs that she's got to take care of herself. He wants to give her a better chance of survival; Tina looks away, sad. "You don't know," she breathes. "I know it's not too late," Carter insists. "School, friends, birthday parties..." Tina starts to cry quietly. "You have a choice. I'm giving it to you," says the benevolent one. Chuny calls Carter away to tend to a high-speed MVA victim, so he leaves Tina alone with dreams of slumber parties that don't involve semen.
A lost Tom Everett Scott trails Carter through the ER. Carter is harassing Gallant about not turfing Chem, who is apparently exhibiting symptoms of...something else. Who cares. Point is, she's not gone, and Carter wants Gallant to treat and street her. "You're not her personal physician," he warns. Tom Everett Scott finally flags down Carter and asks after Abby. Carter knows this is Eric, and shakes his hand happily while apologizing for how insane things are that day. "The guy at the desk told me you were closed, and to go home," grins Eric. Carter wonders why Eric's not wearing an Air Force uniform. Um, because he's not on duty? They're not glued to their bodies. "I'm undercover," Eric smiles. Just then, Erin runs up waving the vibrator in a baggie, asking for guidance because pathology won't deal with it. Carter tells her to get a Polaroid for the medical record; while they sort this out, Eric does a really subtle and cute double-take, his mouth dropping into a neat "O" of shock. Erin, charged with locating a camera, blazes down the hall, holding the bagged-up sex toy like a guiding torch.