Weaver accompanies Officer Sutter and a paramedic into the hospital. Sutter heard four shots, but only felt two bullets. Weaver trucks him toward Trauma Yellow. "Somebody call Jenny," rasps Sutter. His officer buddies muster all the regular false cheer, like, "You can call her yourself, bucko," and whatnot, while Weaver shouts for Susan to page Elizabeth.
Carter and Gallant arrive at Ed Asner's bedside. He seems disoriented. "Do you know where you are?" they shout. He jolts into consciousness. "I got patients," he moans. Gallant tells Carter that Ed's AccuCheck registered at over four hundred. Four hundred? No! Nooooo! Not Ed! Say it ain't so! Of course, I have no idea what that means. I presume it's a blood-sugar count or something, but whatever. Medical jargon is a friend to no recapper.
We hop to Zavery, who leaps around his exam room with the manic lunacy of a really, really weird kid who thinks he's a monkey. Convenient, because that's exactly what he is. Jackpot! He's a crackpot. Abby's vain attempts to get him to lie still are rewarded with his plunge under the bed. "Where's his mom?" Susan asks, entering. "She had to make a phone call," Abby replies skeptically. "To the adoption agency, if she's smart," Susan cracks. Okay, Zavery's under the bed, and he's in simian mode, but he's not a deaf monkey. Sheesh. Abby briefly begins to lose her temper. "Forget it," Susan sighs loudly. "I can't use the Gorillascope if you won't come out!" Abby catches herself and plays along. "Oh, right, you'll have to bring it back to the zoo," she says sadly. Zavery perks up and leaps out and on to the bed, cooperating. Abby puts drops in his eye -- "Yellow banana medicine," she calls it kindly -- and flips off the lights so that Susan can use the Wood's lamp, which shines black light into the eye to check for corneal abrasions. Lucky for Zavery, everything is fine. Except for his name. As Susan lowers the scope, Abby's gaze is drawn to a messy, large white stain between and slightly above her friend's chest. "Susan..." she begins, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Is that semen?" Confused, Susan stares at it. She hadn't noticed. Which is sort of asinine, because the stain is on a black sweater, and the spooge stain is really crusty-looking, which means it ought to be totally visible without the help of a black light. "It's not my sweater," Susan realizes, grossing herself out even further. And so it would appear that Pratt, the hospital intern, Lewinsky-ed all over Chen's chest. That's so charming! His aim is terrible, and while I'm discussing this -- Chen, girl, where was your mouth? Jebus.