Hospital room.
"A bovine valve? Awesome!"
Esther didn't even hesitate once she heard it wasn't from a pig—she was all in.
"Great. The valve'll take an hour to get here, so we need to start prepping for the OR now," Leonard said with a smile.
"Wait a sec," Esther cut in.
Adam's lip twitched. That phrase was his kryptonite.
"Miss Friedman, anything else?" he asked, keeping his professional smile intact.
"Just one last thing," Esther said, rolling her eyes at him. "I'm fine with the surgery, but before we start, I need an Orthodox Jewish rabbi to pray for me."
"No problem," Adam nodded, shooting Leonard a quick grin.
Leonard got the hint immediately. If Adam could book a wedding banquet at the Plaza Hotel on a dime, finding an Orthodox rabbi? Piece of cake.
Do whatever you want! That's the plain, boring life of the rich.
"Do you have a faith?" Esther asked out of the blue, watching Adam handle the rabbi situation with a single phone call.
"I believe in science," Adam said with a smile.
In the West, admitting you've got no faith raises more eyebrows than being a heretic. When in Rome, right? He'd picked up a trick from Sheldon and crew—claiming science as his religion. It dodged a lot of hassle. After all, science has its own church these days. Believing in it? Totally legit.
"Your name's Adam—the first human, the first man, made from dust in God's image," Esther murmured, staring at his face like she was in a trance. "But you know what kids these days are like? My friends are all about hooking up and partying till they drop. You're probably the same, huh?"
"We doctors are busy as hell all day. Where's the time to mess around or party?" Adam laughed.
"I don't buy it," Esther said, eyeing him. "A guy like you doesn't even need to try. Those pretty nurses look at you like they're ready to gobble you up."
"Alright, time to head to the OR," Adam said, shutting down the topic.
She'd called herself Esther and clocked the origin of his name. Clearly, she was a little too fixated on his face. Surgery or not, he wasn't about to flirt with a patient.
Operating Room.
Esther lay on the table while a female rabbi, now in surgical scrubs, crouched beside her, holding her hand and praying. Adam stood on the other side.
An old-school satellite TV was set up, with Dr. Chesney from the Cleveland Clinic ready to guide the bovine valve transplant remotely.
The prayer wrapped up. Esther turned her head to look at Adam. He gave her a reassuring smile.
"Let's get started," Leonard, the lead surgeon, called out.
The anesthesiologist placed the mask over Esther's face, releasing the gas. She was out in seconds.
"She's ready," the anesthesiologist confirmed.
"This is Dr. Chesney from the Cleveland Clinic, an expert in bovine valve transplants. He'll be assisting us via satellite," Leonard announced to the OR team.
Complex surgeries demand tight coordination. Prepping everyone on the procedure and their roles is non-negotiable. Before heading in, Leonard had Adam run through the steps, key moments, and contingency plans one more time—just to be triple-sure.
"Thanks, Doctor," Leonard said to Chesney on the screen.
"Open the chest, start the bypass. We'll make a lateral incision in the left atrium to expose the valve…"
As Chesney's instructions came through, the team sprang into action around Leonard. This time, he took the scalpel himself, with Adam as first assist, backing him up the whole way.
The surgery went off without a hitch.
"I'm still alive?" Esther asked weakly as she came to.
"Of course," Adam said with a grin.
"My heart," Esther smiled. "Is it beating—or mooing?"
She's got a sense of humor, huh? Adam couldn't help but chuckle. He placed the stethoscope on her chest and handed her the earpiece. "Definitely not oinking."
"Heh," Esther giggled, listening to her heart's steady, strong beat. She was just a 17-year-old girl, her life barely started. Even as a devout believer, she wasn't exactly itching to meet God yet.
"Adam, do you have any Jewish friends?" Esther asked, her eyes drifting back to his face as her smile lingered.
"Yeah," Adam said, immediately thinking of Howard Wolowitz—saucy, Jewish, and still a future acquaintance. That guy broke every Jewish rule in the book and still married Bernadette from a Catholic family. Imagining Howard with this Esther? Disaster. She was tall and sturdy—Howard, a grown man in oversized kids' clothes, wouldn't stand a chance, berserk mode or not.
Then there were Monica and Ross—also Jewish. Ross's penny-pinching was peak "calculating Jew" stereotype.
"Any Jewish girls?" Esther pressed, fishing subtly.
"Yeah, Monica. We're good friends. She married my best friend—happy couple," Adam said, picking up the stethoscope. "Alright, rest up. I've got other patients to check on. See you tomorrow morning."
In the hallway.
Christina and the crew were sprawled out, unwinding from a long day's grind. Adam stopped to chat about the surgery.
No surprise, Meredith had scrubbed in on another neuro case with Dr. Shepherd. Christina was handling a 47-year-old patient who'd never had kids, finally got pregnant, and then got slapped with a breast cancer diagnosis—now facing the brutal "save the mom or the baby" choice. Liz had a psychic with epilepsy.
"Adam, you think anyone can actually talk to spirits?" Liz asked.
"Nope," Adam said, laughing. "Don't fall for it."
"Yeah, yeah—reading faces, body language, psyching people out with vague guesses. I know the drill," Liz said, still torn. "But this Mr. Duff guy feels real. He guessed my mom's secret cupcake recipe—nailed it, said I forgot a spoonful of coconut extract."
"He got lucky," Adam explained. "Cupcake ingredients are pretty standard. A guy like that's been around, seen it all. He picks up your accent, figures where you're from, maybe even tasted the local version before. Smells cupcakes on you, notices no coconut vibe—hardly a stretch. If he's wrong, he shrugs it off. No loss. Cast a wide net, and a few guesses hit dead-on. Looks psychic, but it's the same old tricks."
"Ohh, that makes sense," Liz said, visibly relieved. The unknown can freak you out.
Just then, Alex strutted by, scanning the group with a smug little smirk.
"What's up with him now?" Adam asked, curious.
"Heard he hooked up with a hot older woman this afternoon," Christina said, too wiped to care. "Work's a bust, but he's killing it in the romance department."
"He's still hitting on patients?" Adam shook his head. "Guy's got guts."
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