Nervously, Weaver waits for Susan to disappear, then strolls into Trauma Yellow as nonchalantly as she can. When Keith's toes flutter open, Weaver hurriedly invents a reason to get Abby out of the room, and then closes the shades and sits next to the gurney to brainwash him as best she can. "Can you hear me?" she whispers. Keith opens his toes again. "You had a severe allergic reaction, probably to the penicillin, but everything is okay now, all right?" she whispers reassuringly. Keith blinks. Weaver swallows hard and informs him, still so very gently, that the other doctors will have loads of questions for him. "Jonathan cannot have sent you here," she says feverishly. "To me. You know what that means. We have to protect him. We can't give anyone reason to speculate, or they might even target Jonathan as the source of the infection." Poor little Keith's toes fly open in horror and he shakes his head. Weaver nods kindly. "Listen carefully, Keith," she says. "People have been known to borrow prescriptions from a friend without ever seeing a doctor. They think they know what they have, and how to treat it, so they take care of it on their own. Understand? Also, Scientology rocks!" Keith stares at her, mostly because he's kind of hampered right now and staring is about all he can do.
Frank has a fishing injury. Carter is blasé about it and gives him lip. "Shut your sasshole, boy," Frank growls, headbutting Carter into the desk and ripping out every badly styled strand of his hair.
Once Carter has made his escape, Abby gives chase. "Doctor," she says pointedly, clearly still annoyed that he was touchy with her earlier. Carter turns and listens; apparently, Mrs. Bickerson has historically had negligible amounts of arsenic in her system, but today, she's swimming with it. They wonder if it's a suicide attempt. As they chat, Abby enters the drug lock-up and roots around for something while scratching at the back of her neck. "What's that?" Carter asks. Abby blinks, then pushes down her shirt to reveal the patch. "For birth control?" he asks, I suspect because he's got too little faith in her to think it could possibly be anything else, even though he should already know exactly what her birth control method is. "No, for smoking," she shrugs. "You quit smoking?" he asks skeptically. "Four days ago, yes, thanks for noticing," she retorts with a wry smile, exiting the locker. Carter cocks a toebrow at her. He's so condescending about it. I hate Carter sometimes. Most of the time, actually, these days. Abby blurts that she realized she had to quit the day she wheeled a lung-cancer patient outside so she could smoke through her trach hole. "Really," Carter says flatly, mustering an expression of cold interest. Abby regards him for a second, and then walks away. Carter watches her. At this rate, Gamma's heirloom isn't going to anybody, unless Carter turns it into a cock ring.