Scrubs

They say about a third of relationships start in the workplace.

In a hospital, it's even higher.

Maybe it's all the stress...

...or the fact that we spend more time with our colleagues

than most people spend with their families.

Yo. Yo.

Whatever it is, people in hospitals get pretty close pretty fast.

But if a workplace relationship goes bad, there's nowhere to hide.

Look, Lily, I-I hope we can agree to keep this professional.

Professional? Is that what you call it?

Parading around in front of me in a slutty little doctor costume?

I'm a doctor. This is what I wear.

Well, then, Doctor, you messed up,

because my dad is in the mob.

Well, he's mob-adjacent. He manages an Italian restaurant.

But he knows people. Italians. Capisce?

Oh, I "capisce-ed" all of that.

Mmm. Oh, I like her. You two have a very cute,

"Will they, won't they, will she kill you?" thing going on.

You don't really think she'll have me whacked, do you?

I mean, all I did was not sleep with her.

Well, now you'll sleep with the fishes.

But don't worry, Dr. Dorian, I'm sure you'll disappoint them too.

I can see you hitting the "door close" button.

Oh, I'm not trying to hide it.

Gosh, he's mean. But also so clever .

While I had moved too fast,

Elliot was afraid to move at all with her new boyfriend.

He was an organ transplant pilot.

But right now, Turk and I were busy with our own important debate.

Turk, that was not a UFO we saw.

It was a skywriting wedding proposal.

We had also been drinking a whole lot of rose.

I know what I saw, J.D.

The thing zigged and then it zagged.

Yeah, he was making the V in "love." Zig, zag.

Thank you for your service.

Why are you saluting? He's not in the military.

He's not even qualified to fly whole people.

He's Postmates for body parts.

Okay, guys, Wes has to go.

Oh, before you go, could you do the pilot voice real quick, please?

- Turk, come on. - There's nothing special about me.

Agreed.

We all save lives.

I just do it at 500 miles an hour.

All due respect, he's a regular pilot.

There's a whole medical team in back with the body parts.

-J.D., zip it. -Zip it good.

So, is that a yes to my invite to take you to Napa this weekend?

Oh, that is a very firm maybe.

Okay, Elliot.

Okay, folks,

this breakfast has reached its final destination.

He's doing it.

I know you have a choice when it comes to who you dine with,

and I appreciate you choosing me.

Wings. Hell yeah. Here, buddy.

I am not gonna wear plastic wings like a child.

I'll wear them like a glorious eagle.

-You want me to help you put yours on? -Fine.

I appreciate you helping me put my wing--

-Ow, bro! -My bad. My bad.

All of my divorced friends say how hard it is to meet someone,

and then this perfect guy just drops out of the sky, literally.

There's got to be something wrong with him.

Elliot, maybe he's just a good guy.

Oh, then why is he not married, hmm? Answer me that.

Oh, wait, you can't, can you?

'Cause you want to know what they call pilots? Sky playas.

First of all, nobody's ever called them that.

But you know what? Here's what I'm gonna do.

I'll feel him out for you. Big dog to big dog.

It'll be a little bro-down showdown.

I'm gonna find out if he's naughty or nice.

Yeah, 'cause I'm Black Santa, baby.

Okay, fine. Just don't be weird,

like with everything you just said.

Make Santa Black, everybody gets uncomfortable.

Where were you? We have a code caviar.

Code caviar meant a VIP was being admitted into the hospital.

-Everyone had to bring their A game. -Mmm.

-Who's the VIP? -Hospital board member, Mr. Walton.

His wife found him passed out at home.

Is Walton the older white gentleman who golfs?

They're all older white gentlemen who golf.

-Ooh. -Mr. Walton is chairman of the board.

Chairman? Pippa, lose those table nachos.

Okay, I'ma wheel them out, but I am not throwing these away.

Look, I know I'm not your favorite person, but we need to work together on this.

Your inability to recognize that I would put the hospital above my hatred of you

is part of the reason I hate you. The other part is--

Literally everything else about me. I know.

Dr. Cox forwards me your insulting emails.

Look, we need an intern.

Which of your mouth breathers has screwed up the least?

Asher, you've had a solid week of not almost killing someone.

Welcome to the team.

Dr. Dorian, Dr. Park. This is an honor.

Congrats, you're our slop boy.

Yeah, whatever we suck out of this old guy,

blood, feces, urine, you just race it to the lab.

Don't look at him. Don't talk to him.

If he hands you this bedpan, you just hold it up and say,

"Please, sir, may I have some more?"

On it.

They're here.

Mr. Walton, Dr. Park and I will personally oversee your care.

You're in good hands, sir.

So are you.

Okay. So, Mindy, it's elective,

but I strongly advise you go through with the fibroid surgery.

It's the only way you'll stop being in pain.

- Cool, cool, cool. Love it. - Mmm.

-Let's do it. -Okay.

-Okay, Mindy. -Right, let's talk outside, you two.

She's fun.

She's a runner. She's delayed surgery so many times.

The second you look away, she's gonna bolt.

-What? I don't see it. -Me neither.

She wants us to cut it, slice it, chop it, drop it.

She's covering her nerves. Who the hell raps about surgery?

First of all, I'm a trained surgical rapper.

Mindy's scared.

You two need to keep an eye on her at all times, all right?

Thanks for rushing this through.

Any time, handsome.

Ugh.

What? I'm not handsome?

-Not seeing it. -That'll change.

-Ooh. -Oh.

Oh! Dr. Reid.

What do you think of Dr. Lewis?

He's a narcissistic me monster with main character syndrome,

and I cannot stand being around him.

Great, you're rounding with him.

His patients keep getting readmitted, and I want to know what's going on.

-I need you to go undercover. -Okay.

I do amazing Russian accent.

I don't think you do.

Thank you for feedback. I work on it.

So, your charts look good.

Sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Reid wants me to round with you.

Hmm. Lucky you.

Luckily, Mr. Walton's high-stakes emergency

turned out to be nothing but a low heart rate.

The good news is, Mr. Walton, your vital signs are back to normal.

You're going to be fine.

Bad news for your golfing buddies.

They're going to keep losing.

I hate myself.

You know, you two should join me on the links sometime.

I'd love to. I play 18 holes every weekend.

Damn that windmill on the sixth hole.

What's your handicap?

Blondes.

Yes, I relate to all of this.

Are you sure he's gonna be okay? I worry so much.

His heart is strong, Mrs. Walton. I think he was just dehydrated.

- You see, Bunny? - Okay.

You aren't gonna get rid of me that easily.

My little Bunny, my little...

Did you see that? That is how it is done, slop boy.

It was a pleasure to do.

Not now, Asher. I have a speech to give.

You were all a part of this victory.

Our dedication and teamwork,

and, I don't think it's too hasty to say,

my leadership are what makes Sacred Heart the best of the best.

Now, roll back in those table nachos.

If you notice, every chip is covered in cheese.

It's not by accident, people.

Feels like there's more applause for the nachos than my speech.

Nachos!

Code caviar, code caviar.

What? Who is it now?

I don't get it. His ECHO and his EKG were normal. He was stable.

I don't know what happened.

I made him a smoothie and he just collapsed.

You thinking what I'm thinking?

Did I leave my coffee mug on the urinal again?

Maybe. What are you thinking?

That Bunny is after his money.

No one thinks that.

-Get that money, girl. -Mm-hmm.

We ain't gonna judge you.

Captain Wes.

-No flight yet? -No, but in about three minutes,

Ms. Yolanda's flaky cheddar biscuits are popping out of that oven.

I'm warming up the butter as we speak.

My man.

So, you get a lot of tail as a pilot, Wes?

Excuse me?

You know, different women in every city.

Various hoes in various area codes. I know you a sky playa.

Not my style.

Wes. It's just us.

You can tell me. Bro code.

Dr. Turk, cheating makes me sick.

And if that's what you're doing in your marriage,