Sam is doing laundry, hoping to wash that man right out of her pants, but just then Steve comes home, so apparently she's going to have to try a bit harder. As she idly goes through Alex's pockets to check for stray Kleenex, the likes of which just covered my most recent load of laundry in tiny, persistent little bastard pieces of white fluff, Sam discovers a condom. Angrily, she yanks it from Alex's pocket and storms into the kitchen. "What the hell is this?" she demands. "Honey, you knew what that was when I met you at fifteen," Steve smarms. I hate him. He's annoying, he's unappealing, and he has the charisma of a glass of water. Steve shrugs that Alex saw the condom with his things and asked what it was. "So you gave it to him?" Sam asks, horrified. No kidding. Steve is as dumb as he is bloated. "He knows not to take it to school," Steve insists. Yeah, right. And he knows not to steal severed fingers. Really. Sam storms around the kitchen as Steve confesses that he picked up a few condoms "just in case." Were I Sam, I'd grab a Sharpie, scrawl "LUKA" on the wrapper, and tuck that bitch into my bra right in front of Steve's presumptious face. But instead, she throws the condom out, because she lacks sexual foresight. As Sam turns away from the garbage can, she encounters Steve just a foot away from her. Sighing, she glares at him. "You're not on The Pill right now, right?" he asks. Sam realizes, because she herself is only as bright as a burned-out bulb, that Steve is interested in hooking up with her. Congratulations, Sam. Your deductive reasoning is peerless. Mensa is on Line 2, and the president wants you to bring some eggs he can harvest. "A boy can dream can't he?" Steve coos, leaning down to give her a slow, sloppy kiss on the cheek. "You look good, baby. I missed you." Sam closes her eyes, a pained expression flitting across her face. "What are you doing?" she asks quietly. "What you like. It's still what you like, isn't it?" Steve prods. Sam shakes her head and excuses herself to go finish the laundry. As Steve watches her go, Sam tries to ask lightly if he'll hang out with Alex while she gets some stuff done that night. "Date?" Steve asks. Sam is standing behind a wall that masks her from Steve. "Yeah, sure," Steve finally says. Sam exhales slowly, and looks tense and a little confused.
At the hospital, Neela marvels that they're graduating the next day. She can't believe it. "Neither can your future patients," Pratt cracks. "Today, you're ill-prepared students. Tomorrow, baby doctors, with the fate of countless helpless victims in your incapable hands." No one appreciates this. "Jerk," Neela mutters. "Bastard," Lester offers. "Putz," says Abby, somewhat too charitable in her choice of cutdown. Although really, they should have learned by now not to expect anything more from Pratt. Neela reveals that nineteen of her family members are coming to graduation. She asks about Abby's family, but Lester interprets it as a question directed at him and merrily shares that his father, mother, father's new wife, and mother's new boyfriend are coming. I only include that for Lester fetishists, which...exist somewhere, I think, maybe. Neela cuts him off politely, talking over him to ask Abby pointedly who's coming for her. "We're not that close," Abby says of her family. "We're more like survivors of a particularly brutal carjacking than a family." Eh. I don't buy for a second that Maggie wouldn't have leapt at the chance to come. Their lack of closeness seems more a product of Abby's attitude, but she treats it like an irreversible fact. Whatever. I'm so over the Lockhart clan. Pratt crabs at them to get a move on so that they can glean all the pearls of wisdom they can before they're released into the world of malpractice suits. "Wanker," Neela spits. "Turd," Lester says. "Dick," Abby agrees. We smash to the credits feeling sort of annoyed that this show seems so very smug and proud of itself whenever it pushes the limits of linguistic standards. If the show had a face, it would look...well, like Carter looks all the time, actually.