An ambulance pulls in with a combative eighty-five-year-old man who's screaming about someone stealing his watch. Luka says they'll wait on restraints and try to find out why he's deteriorating mentally. Luka and Sam swap cutesy glances at each other as they wheel him inside.

Frank returns and immediately plotzes at the amount of unfiled paperwork cluttering the front desk. Jerry is delighted to see him, ostensibly because he's forgotten who Frank is. "Thank God you're back!" Jerry grins, all but enveloping Frank in a bear hug. "If you start blubbering, I swear to God I'm going to smack you," Frank warns. Neela chirps that she's surprised to see him back at work already. "My wife threw me out of the house," he says. "I think I was getting on her nerves. She was definitely getting on mine." You old charmer, you.

Carter slides out from under a sleeping Kem, his hand still on her belly. She stirs slowly as he returns from the kitchen with a glass of juice and more or less forces her to drink it. He holds her belly while she does, I think to see how the baby responds to food. "Are you doing your kick counts?" he asks, frowning. "What? No! The baby squirms like mad all the time," Kem snorts. Oh, Cartus. You're toast, aren't you? How little we knew ye. Kem shoos him away, promising to do her counts as she grimaces her way through the juice. She's bugged by the fussing. Or maybe she's realizing that she's hooked up with a total douche. I don't know. Carter shoots her a really nervous glance.

Neela chases down Pratt and tells him that Fry Cook's belly CT came back, and that there's nothing that would be keying abnormally high blood pressure. Pratt doesn't much care because there isn't a blowjob in it for him. "He has primary hypertension," Neela argues. She told him to lose weight, get some exercise, and take some prescribed pills under the direction of the clinic. She thinks he's got something called "left ventricular hypertrophy," which sounds like something you'd win at a science fair for building a really good replica of a beating heart. Neela worries that he's got organ damage. "He's a kid," Pratt says, because apparently for him, medicine works in absolutes, and people who are seventeen absolutely don't have damaged organs. It's no coincidence that "Pratt" and "asshat" rhyme so beautifully.