At the station, everybody's moping. Except Carlos, who says in a voice-over that it's no big deal, and that everyone should just lighten up. He thinks (in patented Carlos Self-Absorbo-sound) that his co-workers don't know how to deal with tragedy. Like the way he obsessively cleaned the blood out of the ambulance and zoned out last week as Bobby was dying. Carlos decides that it's his personal mission to cheer everybody up. God help us. He asks if anybody wants some pizza. "I'm buyin'," he adds, charitably. Doc asks whether it looks like anybody wants pizza. (Quick guess: "No.") Suddenly, the grizzled, wizened, chapped (and did I mention grizzled?) captain comes in and tells Carlos and Doc that they're done for the day.

Suddenly, Doc and Carlos are at the hospital, and Carlos expositions enough to let us know they're in for some stress debriefing. Of course, Carlos is way above all this and thinks it's just a big crock. He's wearing a Size 0 leather jacket (our man Carlos looks like he's lost some weight, as if he's trying to take Erik Estrada's place in O-Town). Doc explains that the department wants to know that they can handle stress. Carlos busts out with the fact that it's sad and all, but that the RV couple was old and the woman wanted to go with the man anyway. Carlos says (spot-on, I might add) that this is TV-movie-of-the-week sad; all that's missing is the bulimic and the cancer kid. Would you believe TV Drama of the Week, Carlos? Doc is, of course, shocked by Carlos's callousness, because unlike calluses you get from playing a guitar, Doc hasn't yet developed his Carlos Conversational Calluses yet. Doc marvels at how insensitive Carlos's remarks are, but is reminded by a scorekeeping Carlos that Doc was laughing at a guy recently who had drilled a hole through his nads. Can you really say "nads" on TV? Guess so. The Closed Captioning, however, reveals that the word was supposed to be "nuts." Way to go Inside the Actor's Studio for that word improv, Carlos.