Joan is lying in bed, attempting to nap and failing miserably. The adrenaline of trauma medicine is still coursing through her veins, and her mind is cluttered with the things she saw, second guessing things she did.

There's a knock on the door, and she reluctantly sits up. The voice calling from the other side makes her frown in confusion, and she gets up and opens the door.

"Since when does this place have room service?" she asks the kid on the other side.