Manhattan. Peter's Gargantuan Apartment that No Hospice Worker EVER Would Be Able to Afford. Peter's having a party. There's a knock at the door and it's Nathan, his wife, and Mama Petrelli. Nathan hands Peter a box of women's nursing shoes and Peter just laughs instead of pulling down Nathan's pants and sticking the shoes directly up his ass. Mama Petrelli pulls her son aside and tells him that Papa Petrelli is proud of him. "And still he couldn't make it?" says Peter ruefully. Mama Petrelli makes an excuse that Linderman's in Atlantic City, so Papa Petrelli had to meet with him, and Peter just gently cuts her off and says that he chose to become a nurse without his father's blessing or money, so it's only fitting that he should celebrate his graduation without the man.
Oh, sweet holy Jesus. What is Rena Sofer doing? Is that... is that supposed to be dancing? Because, no. Just... no. She's holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other and she's sort of just tipping side to side while ponying across the room. She's either trying to act sloppily drunk or she really cannot dance. She's not known as the Show Killer for nothing; this dance alone could bring the whole damn show down. Heidi spazzes over to her husband, who's having a little chat with his brother. She asks Peter what his specialty's going to be, and he says it's hospice. "Taking care of dead people?" says Nathan. No, Nathan. That's a coroner. Or a morgue attendant. Or a funeral director. How'd he get to be a lawyer? He doesn't know what a damn hospice worker is; it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't know what a judge and jury are either.
Heidi explains the nature of hospice work to her semi-retarded lawyer husband and commends Peter on his choice. "What's the pay?" asks Nathan, all heart and sensitivity. "A fortune!" crows Peter. "Why do you think so many people WANT to become hospice workers? It's a growing job market, Nate. Taking care of dead -- sorry, DYING -- people. It's where the money's at, dude." Heidi just rolls her eyes at Nathan and tells him that when she gets back from calling the sitter, they're totally dancing together. Nathan whispers in her ear, "If that's what you call dancing, I'm going to need a straightjacket and possibly a lion tamer to get you to vaguely resemble a human being out there on the dance floor. Bring more wine. I'm going to need to be blind drunk before I attempt anything with you that involves physical contact and music." She leaves and Nate takes a seat next to his brother.