Weaver crutches into an exam room and banters with Chen about a patient we aren't going to see, but who needs a Psych consult, and who is only there as a vehicle to lead Chen to comment that Psych is slower than usual today. Weaver pricks up her ears. Haleh says, "I hear they got a shake-up going on up there; Dr. Legaspi's being fired." Without looking up, Weaver tightly says, "Let's keep the gossip to a minimum, Haleh." Haleh replies, "That's not gossip! The gossip is that she's a lesbian." Okay, I'd like to break in here and say that that is so not gossip, especially if Mitchell is out, which she apparently is. Admittedly my only context working in an office environment was in the magazine industry, but tons of people both at our workplace and in the industry at large were openly gay and it was a complete non-issue. I don't know if the medical industry is much more conservative or if Chicago is a more conservative town on the whole, or what, but I really just do not think that Mitchell's sexual orientation would be that big a deal unless she was having an affair with a man -- or with a toddler, like Carter is. Chen squeals, "Legaspi!...Really!" Yeah, whatever. Weaver crutches out.
In the hall, Finch performs a quick neurological exam on Mark to make sure that Mark wasn't permanently disabled by Mr. Midnight's 'roid raging gay yang. Mark insists that he's fine, but Finch tells him to get a head CT. Mr. Midnight, standing by, looks sheepish, and apologizes, saying he got "a little worked up." Mark sucks, "That's what steroid rage'll do to you," all judgmental -- not to mention totally not learning from his mistakes, since it was his judging in the guise of "helping" in the form of a lecture that got his ass knocked down mere minutes before. Dr. Dave defuses the situation by asking Cleo to find Mr. Midnight a bed; she leads him away. Mark and Weaver regard each other warily; she tells him to get a head CT, and moves on as he gives her a "whatever" head flick. Dr. Dave implores Mark, "He didn't mean it. He's just scared." "Scared he's going to get busted," dicks Mark. "No, scared he's going to get the crap beat out of him," Dr. Dave corrects him, continuing, "The kid's petrified of his old man. I got a feeling he's an abuse case." Mark dismissively replies, "Abuse? The kid's a tank!" Dr. Dave explains, "No. The steroids, the aggression, the whole tough-guy routine -- it's a defense mechanism. Trust me." Gee, it's almost as if Dr. Dave knows whereof he speaks, or something. He adds, "I don't think you should tell his parents." Without even doing Dr. Dave the courtesy of meeting his eye, Mark chirps, "Too late! They're on his way." Dr. Dave sputters, "What? I said we'd work something out -- I gave him my word!" Mark snips, "Well, you shouldn't have -- he's not your patient!" Mark starts prissing off, and Dr. Dave pretends to cough but says, "Tumour!" Mark turns back and drawls, "What was that?" Dr. Dave says, "The old Dr. Greene would have helped this kid." "I am," lies Mark. Dr. Dave needles, "Maybe there's something to this competency stuff, huh?" Burn! "Keep it up, Malucci, you'll be looking for a new job," Mark threatens. Fuck off, Mark, and take your nasty-ass hag fiancée with you. TO THE ASS-END OF HELL.