Dr. Park x Emma Nolan meet"cute"
CW: implied stalking MDNI
He ought not waste his time.
There's a carelessness inherent to it, one that inspires anger more than any ill-advised notions of protectiveness. She doesn't deserve his anger, probably, but Park's an angry man, and aside from his cock, that's all he has to offer.
He's never been one of those surgeons who ascribe any level of heroism to his job. He cuts into people and rearranges them in his vision. Hard to confuse the two, in his opinion, but some men need that lie to cling to. He doesn't walk the streets of Pittsburgh tripping over his own dick as he tells himself all the people he shoulders past have a chance at a second chance because of people like him. Really, he couldn't give less of a fuck. If he didn't do his job, someone else would, and they'd be doing it for that pretty paycheck same as him.
Which is why he's so surprised at the surge of bitterness he feels when he finds the planner, and the dearth of personal information diligently filled out on the inside cover - please return to Emma Nolan. It's sitting just inside the hub, clutter taking up vital space when so much hardware has been wheeled out already. Park thinks it's yet more jarringly childish pictography he's supposed to be able to read at first, the cover boasting cartoonish hearts he wouldn't put it past hospital staffing to have once used as some sort of heart attack severity indicator. But the veritable bandollier of pens clipped around its edging gives him pause, something a bit too personal (expensive and well-maintained) about the neat, matching set. So he opens it, wondering if he'll be able to discern who he should be yelling at for taking up prime real estate when he comes up short. Name, number, street address. The school where she's (presumably) completed her program. Hell, she's even outlined a slew of socials where she could be reached.
For the first time, Park wonders why he bothers. He's not a general surgeon. Rarely involved in assault cases where knife wounds and GSWs necessitate more immediate intervention. He doesn't often find himself worrying about people's general safety consciousness. But this? Serving oneself up on a silver platter to anyone who happened to find her cute little book?
There's a debate - brief - about how best to approach it. He could ask Dana where her stupidest nurse is currently, but she's too busy in that moment to be bothered with something so asinine. So he pockets it, carries on with a sharp eye trained on the name tags of all the new nurses. If he's going to make one of Dana's new ducklings cry, he'd rather do it where she can't intervene anyway.
But then he sees her. Perky, babyfaced despite the general air of being overwhelmed. She's cute, a problem considering the type of information she's leaving out about herself. Park draws to a stop in the middle of the hallway, feels the crowd part around him as they continue on their way. The current draws her closer, little fish into big jaws. She's deep in conversation with McKay, hardly even looking where she's going.
She bumps into him with a quiet oof, her soft body pressing briefly against his own until McKay snatches her away with a wary look in his direction. "Doctor Park," she nods tersely, giving Nurse Emma a moment to right herself. When she does, the girl gives him a broad smile, chubby cheeks stretching around perfect, straight teeth.
"This is Emma," McKay continues when the moment stretches long enough that her partner's smile falters. "Emma, this is -."
"Watch where you're going," Park barks, and the girl actually flinches. Someone's going to eat her alive, he muses, fingering the curled edges of the planner still stuck in his pocket.
"S-sorry," she stammers, big brown eyes lowered all the way down to his toes. He thinks about telling her to pick up after herself, or brandishing her carelessness in her own face and telling her about all the men in Pittsburgh who would love to use it against her.
But showing his hand - he'd be burning the very bridge he's suddenly thinking of crossing. No, the less known the better, he thinks; a notion he'll have to teach Emma himself.
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