So that leaves just Clark and Lily at the kids' table. Clark asks how Keeton was with the patient. "He was...not who I thought he was," Lily says, and Clark nods like she knows what that means. Or maybe she just knows better than Lily. Clark informs her, "He lost his wife and kid a few years back. The accident last night hit pretty close to home so...go easy." With that, she leaves Lily alone. That girl can clear a room, all right, even when the room is outside.
"Green Gloves" by The National plays as Clark heads back to the darkened clinic. Proceeding to Ben's office, she finds him crashed out on his cot, with a third of a bottle of whiskey standing on the floor next to his bed. Lightweight. Clark covers him with a blanket, then stretches out next to him in her big scarf and tiny short-shorts, an outfit that tells me that the climate of Down Here must be even more unpredictable than I thought. She spoons him from behind, and in his sleep, Ben takes her hand and says, "Abby." So much for Clark's sweet moment. The last we see is an overhead view of the two of them through the slow-moving blades of the ceiling fan, looking like Martin Sheen at the beginning of Apocalypse Now if he had an imaginary girlfriend who was a shockingly impractical dresser.
And going by the preview for next week's episode, we'll be "learning" more about this Abby person, if we didn't already guess. Which we did.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com.