Frank tells Luka that Security called, and that his car alarm's going off in the garage and irritating everyone. Luka heads off to see about it. Malarkey then sidles up to Neela and asks her if she likes Indian food. Neela looks at him blankly, unsure how to respond to this and fairly sure that he's not worthy of even the bluntest, hokiest witticism. Malarkey inexplicably asks her out for a celebratory dinner once she opens her match letter. "May not be anything to celebrate," Neela says, distracted. "You'll do great -- you're smart, cute, you work your ass off," Malarkey drools. "Not like Lockhart. Some residency program's going to get a hell of a shock when they find out she hasn't passed her boards." Weaver is instantly visible in the background; stationed between them, her back to the camera, she stiffens visibly and her head pops up, turning to the side just-so to allow for maximum subtle eavesdropping. Neela is overwhelmed, between Fry Cook's health woes and Malarkey's blatherings and the general stench of failure, lunacy, and delusion that cloaks him like Pig Pen's dirt cloud. So she blurts out that "maybe" they'll go to dinner, and beats a quick retreat. Malarkey looks pleased with himself, because he's just the most enormous moron. I love the idea that he's been dying to prey on Neela the second she ceased to be a student, but it's so hilarious to me that he actually thought she'd lap up the chance to go out with someone she openly derides. Ah, sweet Malarkey, you are indeed full of it.

Kem is wheeled into her own room, where a kindly nurse introduces her to the call button and the television remote control. Kem's all, Great, nothing like a little Passions to ease the mind of a woman carrying an ex-Cartus. Screw the baby! What's in The Shed? WHAT?!? Carter watches his unresponsive girlfriend staring emptily at the wall, her face twisted by grief. The soundtrack to their suffering is the distant echo of newborns crying.

Luka's beige SUV is honking and flashing its lights. He turns it off, and Steve emerges from the shadows. "You know, your alarm's a little sensitive," he says. Clearly, he's been hovering there, and most likely set it off to force Luka to come out to the garage for this choice little confrontation. Luka just stares at Steve with the blandest expression in the world on his face. Actually, wait, there's a tinge of disgust. "Nice ride," Steve says. Luka refrains from saying, "Sam? Yeah -- throw in a lube job, and she really is." Steve greasily admires the SUV, and tells Luka rather pointedly that it should hold up well on resale, indicating that Luka won't be needing a family-sized car any time soon. Steve's gross. And Luka is just staring at him. I hate what a lame-ass Luka is now. I'm sorry, but it's true. All he does is stare at people. Being with Luka hasn't made Sam less boring -- it's made Luka more boring. He blinks. "You know, I really screwed this thing up with my family, but I'm going to make it right this time," Steve says, setting his jaw. "And I really need time to make it right. To let Sam see how much I've changed." Luka blinks. "Time to be a father to my son," Steve continues. Blink. Luka's mouth puckers unattractively. Yes, that's right, I just used "unattractively" and "Luka" in the same sentence. Steve creepily insists that he and Sam and Alex belong together, as he steps closer and closer to Luka. "And Sam knows that," he finishes, walking straight past an unmoving Luka. Who just blinks. Blink, blink, blink, pucker, glare, blink. I think he's communicating the subtext in morse code. And Steve, I just don't care about -- as far as I'm concerned, he can go away and take Sam with him so that Luka can get involved in something interesting again. I don't know why it has to be either hookers or humdrum. Isn't there middle ground?