A frustrated Abby slides up to the counter next to Luka and shoots him a frazzled expression. "I thought you were off," he says. "Not until she balances her narc count," calls out an eavesdropping Weaver. Abby hides her furious look and continues her pissed-off flounce toward the drug lock-up. Were this a soap opera, I'd expect Weaver to turn up murdered in another three episodes -- just enough time for other characters to be like, "I'd like to kill Weaver," and "Weaver is dead...wrong! Dead wrong. Yes."
"January 18," Luka says. Weaver shakes her head. "Forget it. I already have two Attendings requesting Super Bowl Sunday off," she says. Luka corrects her that he doesn't necessarily want the day off, so much as he's going to quit that day and head back to Africa. She's startled that he wants to go back, but before he unspools another winning oratory about the soul-cleansing benefits of sweating in the Congo, they're interrupted by the sound of the producers throwing Chuny a bone. One that isn't Luka's. She shouts that a Mrs. Webster pulled out her Foley catheter, and Weaver exposits that the woman's a heart patient with some dementia who needs treatment of the medical variety that always flies right over my head. Luka swings the subject back to his resignation; Weaver asks him to write it up and leave the letter on her desk so that she can present it to the administration. "For the record, we need you here as much as they do there," Weaver says plainly.
Pratt swans in, late, and makes up an excuse about a power outage. "Valerie again?" Luka asks. Ah, the workplace grapevine. How well I know thee. And how happy I am that you're not growing on the walls of my apartment anymore. As Luka drifts over to demented old Mrs. Webster, Pratt starts talking about how he wanted to put a Swann-Ganz catheter in one of his patients, and Luka argues it with him. Mrs. Webster gingerly reaches out her hand and clasps Pratt's arm. "How you doin'?" Pratt smiles. "I love you," Mrs. Webster says, quite seriously. "Thank you," Pratt says, flashing her a beam that could light up even the dark crevices of my cold, hardened soul. Pratt needs to stop acting like he'd screw anything with an orifice. It's much more attractive on Luka, who, sure, sticks it wherever he can, but somehow in a more subtle, effortless way. A family beside them interrupts -- the father wants to thank the good Dr. Kovac for saving his child's life, and they present him with gift food, some gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and their youngest daughter, for the purpose of housecleaning, breeding, and massage-with-release. Luka smiles patiently as they shower him with reverence, and then tells Pratt to take the med students around while he goes to get his halo engraved. "Patients really respond to him, don't they?" gushes Neela. "Yeah," Pratt growls.