Pratt hands out a bunch of charts to his med-student posse, requiring that he use the words "tampon" and "douching." When the dialogue's not brimming with incomprehensible inanities, it's a minefield of female problems. This is the "Can We Make Mekhi Quit?" episode. Out of the corner of his eye, Pratt spots Malarkey staring raptly at x-ray films. "We have a board full of nasty and you're studying radiology?" Pratt accuses. Malarkey unsmoothly snaps to attention and explains that a boy named Damian, who is there with his parents and baby sister, swallowed a quarter and is wheezing. "I'm thinking it'll pass," Malarkey shrugs. "In my poop?" Damian sputters. So it's come to this: I'm so hurting for entertainment in this episode that I actually laughed at that. Pratt impatiently corrects Malarkey, saying that Damian needs to have a specialist remove the coin. "No cutting involved," he assures the parents. Malarkey can't really save face, so he just outright asks Pratt who the specialist is. "Hampton," Pratt says. "She's a real special friend of mine. You page her."

Someone screams for Pratt, and he bolts to an incoming MVA victim. Apparently there was some drag racing; a geeked-out guy moons over the number of times his car rolled, because evidently he's delighted that he is a complete fucktool. His girlfriend, in the passenger seat, is critically wounded too. She's got blood in her airway. Pratt wants to know where they can take the patients, and Malik tells him there's a DNR hogging Trauma Green. Pratt rolls the gurney right in there and orders Neela to wheel Winnie out of there. Neela protests that they're still not sure Winnie is DNR, but Pratt snots, "Consider it confirmed," and Malik unplugs the machines. Poor little Frizzy looks a little traumatized. Neela glares at Pratt as Frizzy jots this down in her lawsuit journal.