Carla: Why so sad, Bambi?
J.D.: Because so far no one's screwed up. The admissions clerk obviously didn't make a mistake and the lab technician didn't make a mistake. Maybe I'm just an idiot. I don't know.
Carla: Let me ask you something. You're kind of a boob guy, right?
J.D.: Excuse me?
Carla: I can tell because I've seen you look at mine. Not in a sleazy way, or anything.
J.D.: I think this is the most uncomfortable conversation I've had.
Carla: You want to touch one?
J.D.: I stand corrected. You're my best friend's girlfriend.
Carla: So your instinct is to pass on this fantastic one-time offer?
J.D.: I'm afraid so.
Carla: I'm up here, Bambi.
J.D.: Oh, sorry.
Carla: See, with Ben, it's one of two things. Either your instincts are right or your brain is trying to protect you from something. I say, you have pretty good instincts. Trust them.
J.D.: What am I supposed to do though?
Carla: You know there's only one more person to talk to.