A big dude with a blond brush cut trucks down the hall as we hear Elizabeth assessing Eli (formerly CCK) as a surgical candidate, and Finch supplying information as required. Elizabeth says, "There's no guarding or rebound," and Finch insists, "There was rebounding before." Brush Cut Dude stops at the foot of Eli's bed and asks him what happened. Eli admits that he had an accident. "With the car?" his dad (for it is he) asks. Elizabeth and Finch try to make themselves invisible. Eli says he lost control; his dad asks how fast he was going and Eli defensively yells that he doesn't know, and didn't think to look. Mr. Eli stops and says that it's okay. "The car is bad, Dad," Eli warns him, and Mr. Eli firmly tells him that it's no big deal. ["Then he busts out a big bag of Doritos from those commercials he starred in." -- Sars] The situation defused, Finch decides that now is the time to introduce herself to Mr. Eli -- whose real name is Mr. Emerson -- and tell him that they may need to perform exploratory surgery to rule out internal injuries. Elizabeth, writing on Eli's chart, says, "That's probably not necessary." "You don't know?" Mr. Emerson asks. Elizabeth says that they'll have to observe him for a while, and gives Finch some orders. Finch narrows her eyes and asks to speak to Elizabeth outside. As they leave, Eli sincerely pledges, "I'll do whatever it takes to replace it, Dad, I promise." Mr. Emerson leans over the bed and replies, "I don't care about the car. I can get another car." Aw!

In the hall, Finch tells Elizabeth, "He has a lap belt injury," like, what does she think Elizabeth determined during her examination -- Eli's favourite colour? I'm not even a doctor, and that's the first thing I'd think would be the cause of abdominal pain in a recent car-crash victim. GOD. Anyway, Elizabeth says, "That doesn't necessarily mean he needs surgery. Let's wait on the CT." Finch says the CT is only 20\% effective in detecting small-bowel perforation, and asserts that Elizabeth should "explore him either way." Elizabeth adjusts her neck, the better to get it bent all out of shape, and says that Eli "has no peritoneal signs." "He did," Finch replies. "Not that I appreciated," Elizabeth says with some finality, and then books at the sound of her pager, but not before adding, "You wanted a surgical opinion. I've given you one." Rrrrowr! Ffft, fffft! Meow!