Detective Cuddy is now interrogating Walker. She's really good at this, as she gets Walker to immediately cop to hating his new sister. In front of her parents, too! But he won't admit to doing anything to the baby, then orders Cuddy to stop asking him. Ha! She just got told by a six-year-old.
Back in the room of death, Nash offers House some of his morphine drip for his obvious pain. House rejects it, admitting that he had to go to rehab and now takes only ibuprofen, which he doesn't happen to have on hand right now. Oh, please. Any woman will tell you that you always have ibuprofen on hand just in case. I can't imagine that someone whose pain is even more frequent than a few days a month would be less cautious. Our wise dying patient guesses that House's pain is more mental than physical, asking "what's her name?" House responds to this psychoanalysis with more psychoanalysis, accusing the Nash of projecting his own long lost lady love issues onto House. "What's her name?" House asks him. Sigh. Why do they even care? If I only had a few hours left to live and was in horrible pain, the last thing I would do is ask some asshole I just met about his women troubles. Hell, I don't even like to do that now and as far as I know, I'm going to live forever. Nash asks what time it is. "T minus four hours," House says cruelly before giving in and telling him it's 8:20. He then figures out that Nash is waiting for the woman to visit at a certain time, which is why he won't knock himself out with morphine.
Down in the records room, Taub and Foreman are lying on the ground, stoned. On the soundtrack, stereotypical stoned keyboards play. "Dude," Taub says. "Duuuude," Foreman says. Oh, no. There's nothing worse than watching people pretend they're on drugs. What did they take, two Vicodins each? I've taken Vicodin before and I'm like half the size of them (well, half the size of Foreman, anyway. Maybe 5/7ths the size of Taub) and it didn't do anything close to this to me. Taub is able to get to his feet while Foreman notices that he can't feel his face. The reasonable conclusion to draw from that, apparently, is that Taub should punch him in the face. "Hit me in the face!" he giggle-slurs to Taub; "you know you always wanted to!" Taub is reluctant, so Foreman punches him. Taub is surprised, but then decides that since it didn't hurt, it's "so cool." Then he gives Foreman an impressive right hook. Foreman sprawls out on the ground, giggling. "I wasn't ready!" he says. "What were you gonna do, flex your goatee muscles?" Taub says. Okay, that was funny. But I'm not sure if it was funny enough for the lameness of this scene otherwise. Taub then notices a file sticking out of Foreman's bag -- his own. He grabs it before Foreman can stop him, because one thing I love doing when I'm high on painkillers is reading someone else's personnel file.