So now Akalitus will worry at her about "socializing," and then interrupts her own self to yell at the security guard, who's joking around with a young nurse, putting his handcuffs half-on her wrists. "MICHAEL. Handcuffs? You're 43." The nurse scampers, and Akalitus keeps going. "You're a security guard! Go secure something!" Akalitus leaves, and separately Jackie and Zoey nod curtly in tandem.
This horrible Russian family -- or something, I'm nervous because I don't know what their deal is, and it's not racist if you admit it, so these... Balkans, let's call them, that's casting the net pretty wide -- they're yelling about their dying father not getting care and they're yelling about how the daughter Bebe is moving out if he dies ("Suck my dick," she says marvelously) and they're yelling about whatever clichéd mom stuff, and Jackie throws them all the fuck out, still yelling.
He's a little nervous, the stroke patient, but she talks smoothly and quietly and calmly, and tells him they're waiting on the MRI, but it's clear he's had a stroke. She asks him to smile first, and he tries. She asks him to lift his arms, and only one goes up. She asks him to speak, and his face twists. "Anything at all?" He tries. Really hard. She nods, and pats him. "That's okay. I hear ya." She rubs his shoulder.
There is a very pretty girl in triage who is fucking tired of waiting, and finally comes around to another window, yelling at Zoey that she needs a pregnancy test. She's distracted and crummy, but not so much of either that Zoey's perpetually perpetual weirdness nature doesn't throw her off. Jackie appears behind Zoey and notes that the woman has been in three times for a pregnancy test, in four months. She tries to blow Jackie off, but is reminded that she's in an ER, not a drug store, and when she complains about the price of such things Jackie slaps down a twenty and sends her on her way.
"Bitch," the woman says, and Zoey's jaw drops because she actually took the money. "Bullshit like that comes in all the time," Jackie says solidly, and then jokes/does not joke that she got the twenty off a guy in the morgue, anyway. She reassures Zoey that she was kidding, and Zoey looks into the far-off future of her weirdness. "I love jokes," she burbles. Zoey is really hard to recap without jumping straight to the metaphors, like Paula Abdul, but basically she says this as though she's talking about an obscure French dish she's never actually eaten, while at the same time as though she's talking about her best friend's little brother.