Near chairs, a guy in a gown is in a lot of pain as Lisa tries to draw his blood. Out of focus behind Blood Guy is Mrs. May, in chairs, looking forlorn. Blood Guy, wincing, asks Lisa whether she's ever drawn blood before, and she curtly says she has, and apologizes for the difficulty she's having in finding his vein. Blood Guy yells that he needs another nurse, and she angrily shushes him and tells him she's taking a break. "Yeah," he says, like he just convinced her to do it, and gingerly pokes at his sore arm as she hoofs it over to Mrs. May. Lisa asks if she can get her anything, and Mrs. May bitterly replies, "Just my baby." Lisa replies, "I'll check the vending machine, but you're going to need a lot of quarters." But seriously, folks, Mrs. May, twist the knife, why don't you. It's all about you, isn't it? "My baby." Well, what about Lisa's terrible, awful, no good, very bad day? Yeah. Don't care about that, do you. Selfish cow. (Just kidding.) Lisa suggests that she go home, since someone will surely call her if they hear anything. Or at least Mrs. May could go to the bathroom and apply another three or four layers of makeup, because she's only another layer or two away from the base coat, and after that there's just the primer underneath. Dude. She has a lot of makeup on. I know she's having a bad day, but wow. Anyway, Mrs. May says she doesn't think she can leave without May. Lisa nods, and goes back to Blood Guy. He looks just overjoyed at her return, and mutters, "Oh, not you again." As she sets to drawing his blood, again, the radio beeps, and a paramedic calls to say they're bringing in an infant girl found abandoned on an El platform. Lisa immediately ditches Blood Guy and beats it to the desk, asking whether there's any sign of trauma; there isn't. Alert? Hard to tell -- she's a baby. Making eye contact? Not really. ETA? Less than five minutes.