Next up is a tiny throwaway moment in which Weaver mixes up who's in charge of which patients -- she thought Susan was treating Alice, but she isn't. Carter is. Grabbing her chart, Carter sidles up to Abby and Susan and asks if either woman has heard of a semen allergy before. "Maybe an aversion, but not an allergy," Susan cracks. Heh. That would be a new line, eh? "Sorry, Joey. I'm allergic." Carter shares that semen consists of hundreds of proteins that are potential antigens, but neither woman takes the diagnosis seriously at all. Which automatically means that Carter will be right. I hate how that works.
Abby greets an incoming patient named Sean Gatley, who's attached to the Porcelain God. "My foot's stuck," whines Sean. Apparently, the father wouldn't let them break the pot, which Dad claims is called a "personal hygiene system." Mrs. Gatley rolls her eyes. "Ugh, you're out of your mind," she groans. Hee! Sandy Lopez accompanies the gurney, and in the background, Weaver suddenly leaves reception and canes at top speed toward the gurney. It's not immediately clear that she saw Sandy, but I think she did, and rewound it twice to make sure. As soon as she nears Sandy, though, Weaver is the very picture of oblivion, acting totally innocent and surprised when Sandy hails her and introduces herself. "Good job last week," Sandy praises. "I hear the lady and the baby are doing okay." Weaver practically snatches Gatley's chart from Abby and says, "I got this one," without breaking eye contact with Sandy. It's cute.
Leaving Weaver to take care of Toilet Boy, Abby turns and bumps into Neecole, who is looking for Luka. Sensing this is an opportunity that can't be missed, Abby offers Neecole some coffee and escorts her to the lounge.
Divorce Court. Dr. Cleo "Bicentennial Woman" Finch is on the stand, having ironed her hair straight because curls are considered an indicator of Satan worship and grievous irresponsibility. "Peter is completely devoted to Reese," she oozes, doing that weird thing where she delivers the testimony while staring right at Benton and not at the person who asked the question. It's doubly weird when you consider that Michael Michele's eyes always make her look like she's mentally undressing someone she desperately wants to fuck -- not sex, or lovemaking; fucking. It's a crass but valid difference. Anyway, Cleo adds that she can't imagine a better or more devoted father. Eyebrows asks if Cleo and Benton are living together, which she claims they've discussed doing. Somehow, Cleo and Peter are a couple again. Did we see this? No. And apparently, she's been dating Peter for three years. Is that possible? If she first hit the credits during season six, then at the most, they've been together for two and a half years. Don't perjure yourself, Cleo; he's not worth it. Cleo hedges that their June break-up wasn't a split so much as it was a time-out; she's startled that Eyebrows knows the exact chronology of the relationship. Cleo promises that she will be a stable and constant factor in Reese's life, but Eyebrows can't help wondering when the next break-up will occur. Not on camera, I can testify to that much. Roma objects, because this calls for prophesy, and the judge agrees but wants Cleo to answer anyway. So Cleo is pigeonholed, but diplomatically insists that she intends to be around both Benton and Reese for quite a long time. Still, she's lying prostrate in the coffin, and Eyebrows has a hammer and some nails. He brings up the piano incident, in which Cleo turned her head briefly and Reese subsequently fell and hurt himself. This caused a major argument between Carla and Peter, and made Cleo feel genuinely awful. Cleo keeps it together, but barely; things get heated enough that the judge calls for a fifteen-minute recess so that cooler heads can prevail.