The Advocate

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Heathen: B- | Grade It Now!
The Advocate

Keith crashes in the operating room. Weaver is watching from above, about an inch away from flipping her shit like a fluffy pancake.

Some random nasty guy needs a surgical consult, so Romano appears before a waiting Luka and Gallant to provide this service. The verdict: Yes. Just yes. Romano reclines the man's gurney and gets ready to go, but the look of horror on Gallant's face stops him. "Dr. Romano..." he says, warily. Romano looks down and realizes that he has collapsed the gurney onto his gimpy arm, pinching it. Pissed, he tugs it free; there's a nasty scrape on it. "I'm fine," he lies. Luka looks tense. The weight of the damn world is on that man's shoulders -- or if not, it's on his head, in the form of hair gel. Holy moly.

Mrs. Bickerson babbles that she should never have married her husband, and that you only have one shot at lifelong happiness and she blew it. Carter's like, Okay, lady, you have arsenic poisoning and a raging case of diarrh-anvil of the mouth. But this is all we get. Not so long ago, they thought she was trying to kill herself, and now all of a sudden Carter's laughing at her. I don't get it. Dropped plot, maybe? Carter sends her up the elevator and turns around to see a grinning Abby. "'Til death do them part," she giggles. Carter sniffs that those two miserable souls deserve each other. Oh, Carter. If you'd just stop opening your mouth... Carter invites Abby to dinner, but she declines as cagily as she possibly can. "I have a thing," she says. "What thing?" he asks. "I'm meeting someone," she says. The look in his toes implores her to continue. "My AA sponsor," she finally admits. Carter's toes open wide as saucers. "When did this happen?" he chokes. "I just decided maybe it was time to...say hello," she hedges. Carter has the gall to look miffed and superior. God, there's no pleasing some people.

Gallant tells Luka that he wants to apply to do emergency medicine. Luka tells him to give those Bad Idea Jeans back to Carter. "Well, the letter wasn't for my rotation -- it was for my residency application," Gallant adds. "I know," Luka says. Gallant is still dumbfounded that he's getting nothing from Luka. I know how this feels.

They're interrupted by the Russian mother, who is crying in unison with her baby. It's not clear why they were in the ER in the first place, since the baby's only current problem is that he bit into the latex udder and swallowed a piece. That'll teach him to mess with udders, a lesson every tot should learn at the earliest convenience. "It's blocking his airway," Luka announces. He lies the baby down and reaches into its mouth with special udder removal equipment. "I'm good at what I do," he voices over, the sounds of the hospital again fading away. "I have certain skills, certain abilities, that come naturally to me." Gallant frantically asks if he can see anything. "It's not about seeing," Luka whispers. "Others would struggle to get through the day, but I wanted more," Disembodied Luka says. "More urgency, more purpose. The medicine was exciting, powerful, alive." He triumphantly pulls out the latex udder shard and everyone is happy again.

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