Michael flashes his best winning smile and declares, “Don’t worry, babe.” You should absolutely worry. “I got this.” He doesn’t got this. “I know what I’m doing.” He has no idea what he’s doing.

At the very least, he’s determined to take care of you.

He’s standing at your bedside, armed with far more medical equipment than he knows how to use—at least one of these will be useful, right?—and fumbling with the heart monitor he managed to acquire. He hopes you won’t question where he got it.