People gather at the television set, where the news is showing photographs of the last known smallpox cases. "That's horrible," one man decides. We pan across to Susan, who is examining Jerry's mouth with a flashlight. "It's the pox, I know it," he says. Susan grimaces that it's just a cold sore, and that its origins are something she hopes will remain a special, terrifying mystery. Suddenly, with a barbaric yawp the likes of which Ethan Hawke could never duplicate, Violent Idiot #4 -- Chandler, as a matter of fact -- breaks glass in the vending machine and starts raiding it. Because absolutely no one in the ER has change for a dollar, and dammit, he spent his last dime on that Twix only to watch it get bloody well stuck on the way down. Oh, your pain is mine, friend. Alison is psyched, and the two of them frantically stock up on munchies. Susan walks over there, the very image of bored annoyance. She absolutely refuses to react to anything, I think. Ninety-two percent of her facial expressions have actually gone on strike to protest their complete lack of use. Every morning, they throw tomatoes and raw eggs at her. "That is completely illegal," Susan sighs, picking her teeth and yawning. More or less. Alison quotes a Latin phrase that Chandler translates as "Necessity has no laws."
Pratt reclines in his little den of quarantined love. "You are just peeing in there, right?" he calls to an off-camera Chen. "Shut up," she spits. Stan woozily complains of being thirsty, so Pratt fetches him a glass of water and manages to toss in an amused remark about whether the running droplets have sufficiently activated Chen's bladder. "No," she brats. "Shy bladder, huh?" Pratt giggles. He's wearing a sleeveless vest so that we can all see his muscles. And they're very nice. Wow, gosh gee whiz, I feel completely differently about him now that I know he's one cut mofo. Chen pleads with Stan and Pratt to start a conversation. "Not exactly like we got a lot in common," Pratt says. Chen hopefully asks whether Stan feels a song coming on, but he's feeling poorly; Pratt, therefore, picks up the slack and starts singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," which Stan picks up in a round. The camera pans slowly back to Chen, perched behind a curtain, singing along tensely before complete euphoria passes across her face and her head lolls backward. Sweet release. We hear peeing. Because this is an adult drama, and it doesn't get more adult than an audible urine stream.