LOCATION: wrotham general hospital TIME: midday WITH: open to all!
The smell of sterile equipment filled his lungs as he vigorously scrubbed his hands clean of the flecks of blood that had been on them just moments before. When you’ve worked trauma for as long as Cypress had, you got used to the ins and outs of blood under your fingernails as you tried to save lives. But now that he’d been moved to easier work to shorten his hours so he could spend more time with his sisters, the novelty of the adrenaline rush had worn off. This injury wasn’t serious, just a cut that was left untreated and got a bit out of hand. He looked at himself in the mirror and gave his reflection a killer smile, trying to keep himself excited for the rest of his shift. Soon he’d be home with his family, and away from this place. But first he had to make his rounds.
Walking down the hallways was daunting, he always felt a bit out of place in the general office areas, housing different kinds of specialists and regular doctors. He was a trauma surgeon still in his mind, the change having come too quickly for him to just... turn it off. He looked around every corner for tragedy, it seemed. He turned the corner and found something different, running right into someone and managing to smash his nose into the wall in the subsequent fall from grace. Blood immediately finds it’s way onto his hands, again. At least this time it’s his own.
With a bloodied nose and that killer smile he’d worked on, he tries to squeak some words that don’t sound stupid. “Are you okay?” He starts with, knowing that he’s probably the one worse off. The pain on his face is dull, but the nose is definitely broken. He can fix it though, Cypress tells himself, he’s a doctor for chrissakes.















