A befuddled Weaver lamely shouts, "Just treat your patients," but Carter's ignoring her, so she canes off in a huff of crumbling dignity. "Way to go, boss," Pratt commends Carter. Nostrils are flaring along with Carter's temper; he grabs the phone book angrily and announces that he's purchasing metal detectors. He looks in the yellow pages, apparently finds a listing under "Detectors -- Metal," and calls the company. "Now you're talking," Frank nods. "Get cattle prods while you're at it." Carter snaps, "Shut up, Frank."
Dr. Elizabeth "Grrrrrrr" Corday is thrown a bone -- she and Susan whisper that Druggie went all the way home, got a gun, and came back with it for his Demerol. It almost sounds like they're giving him props for his determination. "He probably went to the corner and bought it," Susan groans. "Sometimes I hate this place." Chuny calls them both to Phillip's bedside. "'Sometimes'?" smirks Lizzie.
Ya-Ya wails that Phillip can't breathe; they establish that his lungs are full of junk. They want to tube him, but Ya-Ya weeps that his vocal cords are already scarred from a similar incident last year when he went on a ventilator for two months. They ignore her, because hi, they're the doctors and she's simultaneously whining for them to save her child, and asking them not to do what they need to do. "Once you put that tube in, that's it, right? That's not coming out," realizes Ya-Ya, broken-hearted. Susan blinks at her, and you can see sorrow and a silent apology start to fill her eyes.
Carter is on the phone with a security company. Luka asks what he's doing. "Contracting out the triage area," he replies. "We're finally getting that?" Luka asks. "And I got the phony purchase orders to prove it," Frank says. Carter takes time out from saving the day to rant at Gallant again for not getting rid of Chem. Gallant points out another problematic test result, but Carter claims it's a product of too much hospital cafeteria food and orders Gallant to boot Chem before she presents with more outrageous symptoms. "She's gonna suck him dry," Abby mutters. Yeah, she wishes.
Weaver shows up suddenly and disconnects Carter's call to the security people. "What are you doing?" she seethes. Carter staunchly states that he's just trying to make this a safer place. "You ordered six metal detectors retail?" she shrieks. Carter nods proudly. "No," Weaver shakes her head. "We have a procurement department that handles all capital expenditures." Carter realizes that Weaver cancelled his order, and he flips out. Oh, grow up, Peter Pan. This is a business. As lame as all the required channels can be, they're still required channels. So unless you want to donate, you might want to take off the green tights and get back to work. "This is not your job," Weaver sighs. "And believe me, you don't want it. We had a 15% budget reduction again this year. I'm just trying to keep the doors open." Carter snits that she should just close them, then, because it's not worth it to be there if they're all in danger. Um, then don't work at an inner-city hospital, Carter. Apparently healing the sick and everything isn't enough of a draw for Johnny T. "You shouldn't have to risk your life to work here," he argues. "Of course not, but you have to be responsible about it," Weaver argues tiredly. "No, Kerry, what's irresponsible is letting things go along as long as we have," Carter sneers. Weaver throws up her hands and says she's been in staff meetings for two years trying to deal with this. "Where have you been?" she yells. Carter throws down his chart and walks out. "Where are you going?" she gapes. "To the ambulance bay to wait for my metal detectors," Carter says, his jaw set firmly. Weaver's jaw drops as he saunters out.