Eddie hands her a fortune cookie and asks her to come visit later; she cracks it open as he grins smoothly to himself: You're pretty when you're tired. -- Eddie. Well, he's learning. That's miles above Me still so horny. She grins, and her back loosens up, but you know what Derrida said about pharmacists.

Whenever you see flashcards or crossword puzzles, start paying attention. That shit is like catnip for writers, because you can do whatever you want. Tell the whole story, in fifth-grade vocabulary: Inherit, says one card. Disguise, says another.

Gloria tells Jackie they're going to bring in social services if the grandmother doesn't show, and disappears. Jackie joins Stephanie at the desk, where she's poring over her flashcards. Confide, says the card.

"I have a spelling test," Stephanie explains (Daffodil), and goes back to it. Jackie notices a brightly colored folder in her backpack, covered in glittered rainbows and happy clouds, the color of chicken soup sunshine. EMERGENCY INFO, it says in puffy letters. "What was her blood pressure this morning," Jackie asks quietly and offhandedly, and without a pause Stephanie looks up: "120 over 80." Jackie asks if the grandmother's even really coming, and Stephanie looks away. Disguise. Confide. "Wanna see your mom?" Stephanie smiles, and Jackie carefully replaces the folder.

Then it's later, and Dr. Cooper's looking at the mom's X-ray. "This is the daughter," Jackie explains, and even more quietly: "Her name is Stephanie. She's ten. Be cool." Which of course sets off the twitching, flailing mess that is Coop attempting to be cool. "Oh great! Hello there, Stephanie, how are you? I'm Dr. Cooper, want a sticker?" It's hard to figure out whose hand is limper in the handshake, as Jackie and Stephanie consider punching him in the face. "She's ten, not two." He drops the Barney act and says, in an accusing tone, "She's a kid." Right, but of all people would Jackie Peyton bring a "kid" into the ICU if the kid couldn't handle it? "Show her some respect, please."

Coop gets a little high and mighty about the possibility of Jackie not being right in every single circumstance, which she is, and pulls rank ("Let me do my job"), which means a boob-grab is two steps away, because no way is Jackie sitting still for that. Coop's job, she whisper-shouts, is to provide the patient with the best possible care. "Which includes informing the caregiver of her condition." She stabs the air: "She is the caregiver. Get your head out of your ass." And... There's the boob-grab. Jackie almost punches him, and scoots instead.