Dr. Cox: I need you to go ahead and take Mr. Evans' chart here and make four copies. Drop one off at my office, one at my car, one at the bar that I frequent, and then go bury one in the quad and draw me up a map, just in case I want to go on a treasure hunt later on. Hmm. 10 after. Goodness gracious. [Dr. Cox shows a text message from Drew with a picture of him in the showing] Oh, darn it all. Now if that ink runs, I'm gonna have to replace the whole sign.
Lucy: Weird. Broken ribs and a possible ruptured spleen? Was Mr. Evans in an accident?
Dr. Cox: Yes, he was in a train wreck called his life. You see, Alan Evans is a hard-core drunk, an alkie, a sauce monkey, a hooch goblin, a man who unwinds at the end of every single day by treating himself to a delightful garbage bag full of vodka.
Lucy: So what are we gonna do?
Dr. Cox: We're going to get him out of here, and then hopefully, he's gonna die someplace else. Like in a yard or somebody's shed. [scares an intern just by looking] I love teaching. I'm a teacher.