Abby arrives in the psych ward and meets up with her resident. He has enormous ears, so I'll pilfer my beloved father's nickname for England's Prince Charles and call him Big Ears. "Mr. Rosenbloom was asking for you," says Big Ears. Abby laughs until he tells her to take it as a compliment. "It took me two years before The Duke would even talk to me," he smiles. He suggests that her nursing background must be what helps her relate with these people person-to-person; Abby suggests that genetics might have more to do with it, since her relatives put the "crackpot" in...well, "crackpot." They enter a tiny observation room, clearly behind a mirror in the counseling room. Big Ears tells Abby that she's going to lead the group today. She's floored. "By myself?" she asks. "No better time than the present," he says. Well, I can think of one better time -- the right time. But who am I to question a man whose ears are so big he can hear my skepticism before I even open my mouth? Abby steels herself, and then stiffly walks inside, sits down, and introduces herself.
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.