Previously on ER: Gallant's sister Valerie flirted with Pratt and told him he could still slip her the crotch catheter despite her multiple sclerosis. Sam gratefully and a little tenderly hugged Luka to thank him for escorting home her wayward son, Alex. Carter, meanwhile, spent some fun time in the Congo knocking up Thandie Newton; he asked her to return home with him to have the baby in the U.S.
An alarm clock goes off -- the real kind, rather than the digital variety -- and we pan over to a dozing John Carter lying in a plush bed. "Remind me to put the clock on your side of the bed," Carter yawns, turning to where Kem ought to be lying. But she isn't there, so Carter sits up in groggy surprise, staring around the empty room in Gamma's mansion. It's a palatial bedroom, with a dark-wood four-poster bed, a portrait of something hideous and unrecognizable hanging on the wall, and a chandelier dangling near the bay window. The whole thing's so cold and sterile. Didn't Carter live there for ages? Why doesn't he have anything personal in there? Unless he's taken to sleeping in Gamma's room, in which case Kem should make herself a bacon cheesesteak hoagie and then run like the fucking wind. Also, Carter's sleeping on a different side of the bed than he did in a previous episode -- he now sleeps on the same side Gamma ostensibly did, which we know because we saw her cold, dead carcass lying in her death bed. None of this matters, really, but it's taking my focus off the outcropping of evil that's persistently springing from Carter's facial follicles. Yes, that's right: The Beard is still rebelliously affixed to his cheeks and chin. Gamma would be rolling in her grave, were rolling in dirt not such an appallingly plebeian thing to do.
Carter hops down the stairs in his sweatpants and socks, calling for Kem. He slides across the floor in his socks and skids to a halt with a flourish; there's a moment where I'm grateful he didn't go full Risky Business and do it in tighties. The maid scurries up and disapprovingly rats out Kem. "She's been in the kitchen since dawn," the woman says, screwing up her features. "She insisted on making me eggs again." Carter shrugs. "That's nice," he grins. The maid shoots Carter a glare that would melt the prosthesis off Romano, were that not already a done deal. "That's not nice?" Carter asks, jogging off to the kitchen.