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support, but he was raising one eyebrow and muttering, "There is something to.." as Mary pushed him, "Oh, you too? Is nothing holy or wholesome?" then muttering about long black hair and clucking three times with her tongue while checking to see, in exaggerated gestures, if Dr. Morgan was visible as a reflection in her compact make up mirror. This didn't need explanation, as her Lillith artifice had been used before. Referring to wholesome, "Not the food, for sure," anesthesiologist Gerry Yount, obviously coming direct from L&D, broke in, finding a place to sit as several asked him to pass some gas on Mary who was still making spasmodic tongue clucking triplets at Morgan. You could tell when Yount, or any anesthesiologist for that matter, was covering labor and delivery by those uniquely red colored scrubs, which he was sporting today under a lab coat which hung more like a comic book super hero cape than as a symbol of erudite medical connection. Osten, in a deft strategic diversion around the angst created by Mary's ongoing clucking and succubus references, picked up on the intrusion, "What's in the rose garden, Gerry?" Yount was looking quizzically at Mary Richards whose face matched his scrubs as he responded, "Oh, nothing much. Had a few false labors. Kinda quiet. Jeez, Mary, you sound like you got a dildo stuck in your throat." To which she railed that he was yet another crude beast without even the slightest concept of what tact was. Yount laughed "Tact? Of course I know what tact is. Tact is what you use when you're out of bullets. Pass the salt Shannon. Yo. Pssst. Shannon?" He had to ask twice because she was in a day dream, still tripping on Macaluso's tale of strewn cups. Shannon was a believer in divine works. She had many of her own stories to tell which related to kids with cancer who had miraculous occurrences. That God works in wonderful ways was something she frequently declared under a variety of