"Any slower and he's going to heal before you can sew him up," Romano snaps at Jensen. Elizabeth enters, holding a mask over her nose and mouth, and watches this with concern. "Another one of your inspirational speeches, Robert?" she says archly. "I heard you were having some difficulties." Romano spits that she heard wrong. "Apparently," she says coolly. "I didn't realize you were back on a surgical rotation." Romano bristles. "I'm just assisting Jensen," he says through clenched teeth. "Oh. How are we doing, Jensen?" Elizabeth asks lightly. "Fine, thank you," Jensen says, but the Great Wall of Dung he's deposited behind him would indicate otherwise. Elizabeth calmly cautions him about nerves and arteries running dangerously close to his incision, and Romano grits his teeth in anger. "And the head bone's connected to the what again?" he sneers. Elizabeth sets her jaw -- or so we assume, as her mouth is obscured -- and politely replies, "Such a shame for this young man to come in with an abscess and go home with a dropped foot because of a severed sciatic nerve." Romano loses it. "Look, I've figured out a way you can help me: leave." Glaring at Romano first in anger, then in abject concern, Elizabeth backs away obediently. Romano is angry, affronted, and miserable. Jensen is shitting entire New England villages.

Luka, Susan, and Abby treat a girl named Sydney who needed her stomach pumped. "What did she take?" they ask her friend, Fiona. But the tox screen is negative, so Abby examines the stomach contents and detects cherries and nuts. Hee. "I smell chocolate," Susan sniffs. Fiona breaks down and admits that Sydney's boyfriend cheated on her, so she binged on banana splits. "You called 911?" Luka seethes. "I didn't -- she did," Fiona insists. "She wanted her stomach pumped. She must've eaten, like, 50,000 calories. Sometimes she binges and purges." She delivers this so matter-of-factly, it's sad. Luka shouts that, because of all the purging, we need to pause and eulogize Sydney's gag reflex. Fiona shrugs. "Clearly she has an eating disorder," Susan says, trying to calm everyone down. "No, I'll tell you what an eating disorder is," Luka intones. "When a mother hasn't eaten in six days because she's giving what little food she has to her three children." Way to preach, Luka. Seriously, did the Bishop reincarnate himself in Luka's voice box? He's irate at this shallow, callow waste of time, and storms out in a pious tizzy. "It's cheaper than liposuction," Fiona defends testily.