indesolution

I have one teeny tiny, itsy bitsy request for the citizens of Babylon as a whole:

COULD WE STOP WITH THE USELESS FIGHTING? As much I as I absolutely l-o-v-e love love LOVE trauma patients and all of their pissed off, antagonistic bitterness, and their broken bones and bruised ribs and black eyes and missing teeth, and their complete inability to COME TO PHYSICAL THERAPY WHEN I TELL THEM TO, I am really, reeeeheheheheeeeeeeeeeally sick of dealing with injuries that could have been prevented by someone simply saying to themselves, GEE, YOU KNOW, MAYBE TODAY ISN'T SUCH A GOOD DAY TO TRY TO ASSERT MY SUPERIORITY! Not that I have anything against asserting superiority — see also: I'm a doctor — but when it keeps landing you in the hospital, you'd think that maybe you'd realize that you should give it a rest.

Elle, you're due in for a check on that brand spankin' new eye of yours next week. Cordelia Chase, letting us know your progress on that whole walking thing would be really just peachy keen. Everyone hurt in the brawl, YOU'RE WELCOME.