the magic words.

PATIENT:
[sitting up in bed, watching t.v., in no particular distress at all]
I'm... having... chest... pain...

JAMIE:
[arching eyebrows]
Oh, really? Where is it, how does it feel, and what would you rate it on a scale of one to ten?

PATIENT:
[eyes glued to t.v screen, utterly calm, fakes some shortness of breath]
Nine out of ten.

JAMIE:
[nursing sixth sense telling her to engage the PIFN protocol, or Patient Is Faking For Narcotics protocol]
Oh, really? Well then, I guess I'll have to give you more nitroglycerin [n.b. not a narcotic].

PATIENT:
I don't want that shit! It gives me a headache, and it don't do nothing for my pain.

JAMIE:
[tersely]
Well, sir, you can refuse the medicine, but if you're really having heart-related pain, I strongly advise you take the medicine, because it will help your heart pain.

PATIENT:
[lapses into grumpy silence, apparently able to ponder this plight at length while forgetting to fake his life threatening cardiac-related pain]

JAMIE:
[unable to conceal annoyment]
Do you want it, or not?

PATIENT:
[begrudgingly, after a minute's consideration]
Yeah, I guess so.

Later in the shift...

JAMIE:
[walking into room]
So, how's the chest pain? I'm going to give you some more morphine, now, okay?

PATIENT:
[ now watching third episode in a row of syndicated CSI: Miami. Starts moaning dramatically, and faking shortness of breath as if on cue]
It ain't better.

JAMIE:
[barely faking concern]
Oh, that's too bad.