James is getting some sutures in his shoulder, but otherwise he's in fine shape to bail on Rena. "You're not going to stick around for her?" Pratt asks. "Like I said, I just met her," James says defensively. Pratt scratches his throat and walks into Trauma Green to check on Rena. She's headed up to Elizabeth for an operation, which can only mean something's effed up in her intestines. Hate the plumbing problems. "Don't worry. Dr. Corday is an excellent surgeon," Pratt says reassuringly. Rena groggily asks if he'll come see her afterward. "Sure," Pratt says. But he doesn't raise his hand. Remember those old commercials? There's absolutely a giant pit stain forming under his lab coat right now. Pratt quietly asks Luka to let him know how Rena does.
Pratt then gets handed some charts, so he calls over Neela to dump a bunch of the work on her shoulders, because that's the beauty of delegation. "I can't -- I'm in the lab at 4," she says. Apparently, she's doing some work in stroke research. I don't know if this is her rotation, or the project Susan referred her to, but either way, she's not looking all that stoked about it. Then again, Neela never looks stoked. She's got glowing embers, at best, but no fire. "You're going to the Mouse House?" Pratt asks, disgusted. "It's elective," she says. "I'm lousy down here. People seem to think I'd be better up there." Pratt mutters something like, "God forbid you disappoint them," and stalks away. Okay.
Neela greets The Blue Puker and apologizes for taking so long to get to her. Blue Puker says she's been feeling cruddy -- nauseated and headachey -- and thought it was the flu until she lost the feeling in her hands and feet. "You're not here because of your skin?" Neela asks. The girl sweetly shakes her head and says that's a condition called ventricular arrhythmia, and I can't tell if that or the requisite drugs are making her skin blue, but either way, her hands in particular are a lovely Crayola color. "Know what the guys at school call me?" she asks, brightly. "Smurf." Dang, I was going to refer to her as Smurfette. Is that wrong? It probably is. It's tacky. But you know what? She's not real, so I can't make her cry. Smurfette it is.