George is talking to his patient, Meloy, asking if the car hit him while he was in the crosswalk. Meloy doesn't seem to really register just how skeptical George sounds as he looks closely at the pattern of the wounds. Meloy has no real interest in waiting for the police, but George politely insists and then heads off after Alex to request a psych consult given that Meloy seems agitated and his injuries totally don't look like they should if he was walking when he was hit by the car. Alex has gone beyond smug to just plain mean, guessing that Meloy is agitated because he has George as a doctor, that or his having just been hit by a car. He orders George to discharge him so that they can see other patients, so George counters that if Meloy leaves and hurts himself it's on Alex. The threat of actual responsibility gets Alex to agree to it, but not without shooting back that if another patient dies because they don't get a bed, it's on George. I suppose this is what makes Alex a kind of brilliant character -- that I can love him one minute and loathe him for being such an immature jerk the next.
The Chief and Mere are on the walkway, and he warmly tells her he hears congratulations are in order. But while he's really happy, she looks taken aback that he knows and her face remains stony as she thanks him and then asks for her assignment. His answer is just, "Dresses." He explains that Izzie has turned her room into a bridal boutique, so Mere's job is to try on dresses with her sick friend, which doesn't seem to thrill Meredith like it would thrill, oh, me. Seriously, if my boss ever tells me, "Your job today is to put on beautiful gowns and be a pretty, pretty princess!" I'm bringing her Best Boss Ever coffee every morning for the rest of the month. Derek must have walked up because from nowhere he pipes up that he thought Mere wasn't wearing a dress. And then the Chief must have walked away, because Mere demands to know how Richard knew they were engaged. Derek gets defensive as he reminds her that Richard is his friend, and then falls into his comfortable, everyday condescension to tell Mere to just talk to Izzie if she doesn't want to wear a dress. Mere whines that she can't do that while Izzie looks at her with, "those cancery, wedding-loving eyes." Derek thinks she's overreacting, but Mere knows her friend well enough to know that they are looking at pink taffeta bridesmaid gowns and Derek in a top hat and morning coat while someone sings "Wind Beneath My Freaking Wings." Derek just patronizingly asks if Mere wants him to talk to Izzie.