Luka promises Nick that he'll check on his kid brother. "Will you talk to my dad?" begs Nick. "I'll do better -- I'll convince him you're a hero," Luka promises. They load Nick onto an elevator; Abrams is a few paces behind, bratting that an in-house doctor could've handled this. "You're the [toe] specialist," Luka points out. "There's a pellet in the other [toe]," Abrams says, annoyed and refusing to guarantee that he will be able to do anything to save Nick's sight. What's with doctors not wanting to do their jobs today? This guy resents being called to work, and Elizabeth's all up in a whipple about the whipple. I know it's not always fun, but people, it's your JOB to try and fix people who are broken. Stop with the whining and just do it. "Perhaps you could've come sooner," Luka says. "[Podiatry] isn't emergency medicine," sneers Abrams. Um, it can be, though, right? Like when a patient comes in after an accidental tragic sight-threatening toe shooting? Sounds like an emergency to me, bucko. Abrams complains that most guys wait a week before performing this operation. "All you did was stop me from shooting an eighty-two," he pouts. "Tell that to him," Luka spits.

Abby calls Luka into Trauma Yellow with Susan. As she turns, Eric spies her and calls her name, still trailing Carter and babbling about buying planes and money and the air-speed velocity of unladen swallows. "I tried calling you," Abby frets. Eric energetically apologizes for Jody being an immature drama-queen product of the Jerry Springer generation. Abby busts him on being gone from the base for two weeks, and Eric tries way too hard to lie that the base is on a streak of screwing up his leave, and he can fix it with a phone call, and isn't that great, and shouldn't they all do something zany this weekend like fly to Vegas, gamble, and get Abby and Carter hitched at an Elvis chapel. Oh, please do that episode. Seriously. Please. That is Must See TV. Abby finally puts a stop to the rant by firmly raising her voice to say, "Stop it." She busts him on the PTSD. "That was nothing, they cleared me," Eric waves it off. "Every controller I know has PTS assessments. It's their way of getting time off. We even joke about it: How do you know when a controller's suffering form PTS? His tackle box is missing..." And this devolves into a story about how Eric doesn't like fishing, and doesn't Abby remember the time he blah blah yawn-snort drool blahed? Yeah.