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@ncbodyssoldier
private / dependent / character blog / more muses to be added.
@ncbodyssoldier / hollis westbrook & cole harrison. ❛ you know you can always talk to me. ❜
they've been reviewing case files — cole's case, to be specific. hollis had been peering over his latest x-rays and scans, looking for any imperfections or wear and tear on his prosthetic implant that may be causing the pain flare ups he's been feeling lately. they'd come up with a game plan, tabling surgery for now in favour of something significantly less invasive but hopefully just as effective and hollis had considered that a job well done. she figured they were wrapping up, that cole would excuse himself to go save lives in the er until he spins things on her. she snorts a laugh, leaning back in her chair and shooting him a look. "you're not gonna try to psychoanalyze me again, are you?" she asks, head tilted. "what makes you think there's something to talk about anyways?"
he hadn’t intended to bother hollis with this today — honestly, he was fully ready to just ignore the pain for a few more weeks until it was unbearable and he had the threat of a wheelchair looming over him — but cole harrison had made a lot of people a lot of promises that he wouldn’t fall back into bad habits. plus, when he was heading upstairs to have a coffee with his wife before they both got too busy, an er med student lost control of an empty gurney; the metal corner slammed into the metal of his prosthetic and sent a whole other type of pain up his leg. message received, universe, he thought to himself as he pulled himself up, waved off the kid’s apologies, and headed into the elevator. even if he didn’t want to get checked out, word would get around the hospital in the way gossip always does. an accident that made him lose his balance would turn into cole getting mowed down and run over.
so he got in the elevator and texted tess that he was making a pit stop at hollis’ office. there was no need for surgery yet, which was a relief, and cole had inspected his leg at every angle and decided there wasn’t any damage. everything was fine and the trauma surgeon was in a good mood — he’s been in a good mood for weeks, actually — which is why he didn’t run out of there like he usually would. you know you can always talk to me. “when did i try to psychoanalyze you before?” he asked, tightening the straps around the base of his prosthetic. “i mean, i don’t just mean bad things. you seem to be happy lately. anything you want to share with the class?” he asked, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow up. “or should we talk about your birthday comin’ up?”
cyrus cruz & cole harrison | @ncbodyssoldier ❛ we’re running out of space? It’s impossible. this building is enormous. ❜
“dude,” eyes roll, not surprised to see that cole didn’t understand what cyrus meant. “it’s not like, literally. i mean figuratively.” he continues his way through the line in the cafeteria, grabbing a pudding cup as he explains himself. "this hospital is fuckin' huge and yet everywhere i turn, cooperman is around the corner." cyrus points out, not caring that he's complaining about coop to coop's best friend. the latter still leaves him with a bit of resentment, feeling a sense of betrayal. "there's not enough room here. he's gotta fuckin' go." cyrus adds definitively, reaching for a saran-wrapped sandwich.
“well,” cole said slowly taking his own pudding cup, nodding in thanks to the woman restocking behind the counter, before turning back to the younger surgeon ahead of him. “is it because he showed interest in the way you teach?” it had been a long month since sullivan’s band of psychological warfare was dropped on the team, but cole hadn’t been as stressed as the others. he had other things to think about — like the way his wife was coming home — than trying to impress a man who had already decided that he wasn’t going to be impressed by anyone’s attempts to keep their jobs. cole assumed that’s why the chief dumped the task on working on his own brand new colleague’s teaching method. so he could just watch. “have you spoken to coop about anything? or are we still in the fight stage?”
margot tilts her head, letting indira's words wash over her. there's a faint tightening at the hinge of her jaw when she's all but outright rejected, but it goes as quickly as it comes. she's used to people wanting her attention, wanting the warmth she doles out so easily, but she's never been one to force it. she doesn't prey on those who aren't interested — doesn't push or linger with that familiar bite she reserves for willing participants. still, there's a thrill in knowing the power of an honest to god 'no' that keeps her from being completely deterred. "uh huh. how nice," she says, letting the silence stretch just a hair too long. "rain check, then. next time you help me make someone beautiful, you've got a glass of wine on me if you want it."
indira didn’t know if it was the smell of disinfectant climbing up her nostrils or the way this conversation had started to go astray that was adding to the mounting pressure in the back of her skull. it wasn’t that she was afraid of people not liking her, that was fine. but there was something heavy about the way margot was watching her right now. it wasn’t dislike in her eyes, but something that looked like determination. like margot was facing down a challenge. but this wouldn’t be the first time indira overthought a look someone gave her. “nice isn’t the word i’d use,” she snorted. “more like medieval torture.” hands in her pockets, indira nods politely. “i’ll keep that rain check in mind, thanks dr. vaughn.”
@ncbodyssoldier / jane carlan & indira anand
the trauma bay’s a mess today — too many patients, not enough hands, and one of the new residents already looks like she’s about to cry. jane’s been moving fast, chart half-finished in one hand, coffee gone cold on the counter behind her. they’re not even supposed to be down here, but what other choice is there when the nursing team is so short staffed? she spots indy by the med cart and raises her voice over the noise. “hey, sweetheart,” she calls, not too loud but firm enough that indy will know it’s urgent. “can you grab me a set of vitals and hang another liter on the guy in bay three for me, please? he’s got a nasty lac across the shin and his pressure’s tanking again.”
this job has proven one thing to indira in the years she’s been at this hospital, and that is the fact she’s great in an emergency. she hasn’t even been told what led to the er being filled to the brim this afternoon, just that they needed more hands downstairs and indira was fast and knew how to work in chaos. she was in the middle of passing out more bandages when she heard a voice cut through the noise of the mci happening around her. bay three. twisting around toward the voice, indira held the requested supplies up over her head, the fastest way to acknowledge jane’s words that she could think of at the moment. “on it,” she said moving over to the bed. the liter of blood was hanging in under a minute and she was calling his vitals over her shoulder to jane moments after that. “pressure’s not coming back as fast as it should — should we be getting him into an or?”
Ryan nods, letting the intern finish his thoughts. "Good, that's exactly right. Unfortunately, most, if not all, concussion patients will complain of continued headaches-- especially when they break our rulebook. So we can suggest over-the-counter pain medication as well. An ophthalmologist will only be needed if he has that blurring. I'll also be asking his parents to inform his athletic trainers so we can ensure he's not playing any time in the next 2 weeks, considering he narrowly missed out on brain surgery," he explains. Ryan did know football players, but most of the time, at least the parents were on his side when it came to advising when and when not to play. "I know them well. That's why we go over them. Unfortunately, I can't tell his coach not to play him, but I always hope the parents will-- when they are signed off for the HIPAA docs," he shrugs. "Hitting him less hard won't be in the cards, but at least we can try and heal him before he gets rocked again; otherwise, there's a good chance he'll be back here -- or worse. In my trials, I'm working with guys who are 15 years in the future who didn't listen to their doctors. Sometimes I wish I could show these guys what they might look like if they don't listen, you know?"
it was a little embarrassing how giddy he felt when he answered ryan’s question correctly. finally, after so long, he felt like he was catching his footing again. maybe this was the breakthrough he needed; answering a general question about post concussion symptoms when an attending asked — but you really gotta celebrate the small victories along with the big ones, right? “yeah but they shouldn’t panic if they have a run of the mill headache right? so when would they ever know to come back in?” dragging a hand down his jaw, miller stared at a chip in the paint on the wall. “what if we sat down his athletic trainers? or the team medic? have them explain it to him? maybe college football is different, but when i was in high school if anyone wanted to get through to me they had to talk to my coaching staff. wouldn’t listen to anyone else, no matter what degrees they had.”
miller loved football, he watched it every time it was on, he played quick games with his friends when the weather allowed, but ryan had a point. it was a dangerous game. and people hadn’t started taking cte seriously until recently. it’s why neuro was at the top of his list for specialties. “oh trust me, i get that,” his friend was one of those stubborn assholes who hadn’t listened. he ended up not making a team in college, and that may very well have saved his life. “how are those trials going, by the way?” miller asked, making notes of what they were talking about in the top corner of the pad of paper he brought with him earlier. “i would love to assist in that research if you ever need a hand…” he trailed off, trying not to sound overly eager.
"by the time that happens, we'll be done with our shift anyways." not his circus, not his monkeys once he's off duty. at the meniton of the frying basket, he raised a brow, "wow, so much for preserving evidence."
he was about to go on one tangent, but he paused with his mouth open once she asked the billion dollar question, "me? annoying?" he shook his head, as if that wasn't a possible reality. "i’m a delight to be around, even patients think so." not him, he couldn't possibly be annoying.
he then crossed his arms, like an offended child, leaning against one of the desks, "it was definitely because he had an itchy asshole, but i have a feeling he's always that rude." especially when he probably was never humbled. "like me? annoying? i'm a delight to be around." not him, he couldn't possibly be annoying. "the man’s insults were subpar at best. i’ve heard toddlers with stronger material. at least come up with something more original than me being annoying and trying to insult me by telling me about my butt chin. like don't you wish you had one?"
“you maybe,” indira grumbled. “i’m working a double! so don’t go cursing me because if somethin’ weird comes out of the woodwork you’re gunna be the first person i suggest to bring back here when they need backup.” pursing her lips to keep from laughing too much, indy nodded slowly. accepting a file from a passing doctor and setting it into the pile for rounds later. glancing back at evan, she nodded slowly. “oh for sure,” she said, tone light and teasing. “an absolute delight. i’m sure he just didn’t understand your brand of bedside manner,” leaning back in her seat, she couldn’t keep the laugh from escaping. “he came for the butt chin? completely unprompted? god he sounds more annoying than an itchy asshole — but no, i think i’ll let you be the butt chin representative for this hospital.”
sienna laughs, the tension in her shoulders stating to ease as she leans back in her chair. "i think you earned like, at least two coffees for that. maybe four." she smiles faintly, a hand moving to rub at her temple absently. "i thought she was coming into that closet with me and you were the only person in sight to save me so. congrats, you're like my new emergency contact." she sips at her lukewarm tea, nose scrunching slightly as she sets the cheap paper cup back down. "i just want to be able to do my job without someone thinking i'm reporting back to my mom or like i can pull strings for them," she shrugs, rolling her eyes. she supposes if she didn't want to live under elaine iyer's shadow for the rest of her life, she probably shouldn't have become a surgeon. "anyways, if gossip is your preferred currency, you want scandalous or mildly unprofessional?"
“well while i feel that four coffees may be a bit excessive,” indira said, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them, “i’m honored to have the title of your weird situation emergency contact,” laughing lightly, indira dragged her thumb across the condensation on the plastic cup in front of her. “but that does absolutely sound like hell. it’s like their patients are creating a toxic work environment for you and there really isn’t anything you can do about it.” as much as she would love to verbally kick the shit out of a patient that is staring at her chest too long, or asking her if she really knew what to do with her suture kit, the nurse knew that nothing would actually happen. “besides hide in closets and call me,” she finished with a grin. “but in terms of gossip — give me everything.” her grin turned sly as she leaned closer to the intern and whispered conspiratorially. “give me the most scandalous and mildly unprofessional piece of gossip you have and i’ll try and match you,”
Violet laughed, shaking her head. "Isn't it obvious that I thought I grew a third and fourth arm on the way here?" she asks with a snort. Halloween was never boring for the pediatric surgeon, who made it a sport, wearing a whole week's worth of costumes for the occasion. "Plus, I was trying to get the final pumpkins to the people so that I don't have to use them for compost if they can bring some cheeriness. -- You look hot, by the way. Very Posh Spice and super baddie vibes. Are you excited for tonight?" she asks, figuring she couldn't be the only one excited for the girls' night, after work and trick or treat, of course. "I'm just glad I didn't decide to wear Cat Woman this year because then we'd almost match."
“ah,” she said. “happens to the best of us,” laughing she took whatever was being offered to her and pushed the door to the apartment open with her foot. “where are these ones going? just on the counter?” glancing over her shoulder she grinned, twirling a little bit as she set the pumpkins down. “well thank you,” she grinned, jumping up to sit on the counter. “i feel like it’s missing something though…” inspecting herself in the dark glass of violet’s oven, she was glanced back at the surgeon. “hm? oh definitely. after everything going on at work — i think we deserve some fun, don’t you?” crossing her legs, indira raised her eyebrows. “cat woman would’ve been great,” she conceded. “i’m glad we’re doing the group costume though — how many costumes did you end up wearing this year?”
“just a splash of milk will do,” she says, swiping on a few extra layers of deodorant on her way out of the bathroom. she turns her back to the kitchen, tossing the shirt she slept in on the couch and pulling a bra over her head without bothering with the clasps. lottie sniffs at a pair of jeans and a plain shirt before getting dressed, trying to make a permanent mental note to do her laundry after her shift.
as ready as she’s going to be, she turns to face theo and reaches for the much needed coffee. “i’m looking for a place.” she hasn’t been, but she knows she only has a few more days at best before her welcome is thoroughly worn out. even her favorite cousin can’t be expected to put up with her for this long without any real explanation as to why she showed up. “i’ll be out of your hair as soon as i find something i can afford. promise.”
“splash of milk,” theo echoed, digging around his drawer for the lid that went with the cup before moving down the hall. he was in no rush — indy was meeting them in the parking lot and the hospital wasn’t that far away. handing off the coffee, the resident shrugged one shoulder. “there’s no rush,” he assured what must have been the eighth time. “i really don’t mind you staying here. but like i said. i assume a bed would be better than a couch.” realistically, his mother is in philadelphia absolutely appalled that he didn’t offer his cousin his bed and he take the couch. but theo was almost too tall for the couch that was about a square foot away from being too big for his space. so sure, he felt bad, but also it was the best case scenario for everyone involved. “i’ll keep an ear out here for something opening up. but have you talked to miller? he’s either got a spare room or it’s about to be the off season for his family’s airbnb that he runs. that might be something.”
Violet lounged at their table in the back, peeking around the bar while she awaited Theo to bring back their drinks. She'd requested a Paloma, despite knowing that it would be far too strong. The Duck always held such promise when she had started coming here-- her first night was actually for her 21st birthday. Now, several (more than several) years later, she was sitting in the same bar with the same expectations. "Well, you were a great help today to start-- and now you're buying my drinks? What did I do to deserve you? That's the real question," she grins, holding her glass up to 'cheers' with Theo. "But when I'm talking fruit baskets, I'm talking like one of the edible arrangement ones where they make the fruit into fun shapes-- to be clear. I wouldn't leave you high and dry with a bunch of Red Delicious apples and subpar grapes."
“okay so,” theo started as he slid into his empty seat. “the bartender seemed way too into the halloween spirit already and may have given you an extra shot in there…maybe two. he was kind of measuring with his heart.” or maybe that’s how paloma’s were supposed to be made, theo has never actually heard of the drink until two minutes ago when violet ordered one. he set his sweating beer bottle on a curling paper coaster after taking a swig. “hey we were the dream team in that or today. we deserve these.” tipping his bottle toward her glass, he gave them and their emergency appendectomy from earlier a cheers. “and you technically caught the problem first so you’re not paying for drinks.” though the idea of a premium fruit basket was brightening his mood even more. “wow, an edible arrangement, huh? we gotta do more emergency surgeries together, i make out like a bandit at the end of them.” chuckling, he leaned back in his seat, eyeing the sea of people half in costume. a wall outlet was looking for his plug when he turned back to the surgeon beside him. “so what’s your big plan for this weekend?”
thalia stays out of it while theo handles the chaos of movie night with the ease of someone who has done it a million times. her mouth curves into a little smile as she follows him into the break room, humming. "districts huh?" she repeats, falling into a chair. "you're gonna have a full blown rebellion in there if you're not careful." it's impossible not to feel a flicker of warmth at all of this though — the movie nights, the book club, the way these kids have formed a community around each other.
she pauses, glancing back towards the door where the sounds of laughter and arguing still echo faintly. "you guys have built something good in there," she adds, voice softer now. "it's rare to see them like this. feeling safe enough to just be kids." she offers an approving smile before tossing him the coffee pod in question — vanilla hazelnut. "how's zoe been?" she asks, sitting at the table, referencing the patient she's here to see. zoe ramirez — sixteen, end-stage liver disease secondary to autoimmune hepatitis waiting on a transplant. "she was a little rough the other day."
“districts,” theo echoed. “there was apparently a big debate on where i’d be placed. i think they settled on district seven for whatever reason but for awhile i was a career.” theo snorted. he took a second to respond, waiting for the machine to stop it’s screeching before he slid his mug out of the way. replacing the pod for thalia’s, he restarted the process before he turned back around. “oh they keep threatening it. said there was going to be a coup because i wouldn’t let them scrub into one of their friend’s appendectomy. i said there were a lot of years of schooling they had to get before they could and then one of them said it shouldn’t be too hard if they let me go in there. which honestly, hurt my feelings a little bit i can’t lie.” theo had let them have their fun, and chose to remind himself that he went to an ivy league college instead of bragging to a bunch of teenagers.
blue eyes followed thalia’s out into the hallway. smiling softly, he slid the mug of coffee in front of the other surgeon and took the empty seat across from her. “yeah, i’m glad they have each other, y’know? this place can be so isolating, especially for kids.” furrowing his eyebrows, he considered her question. thinking back to the past few days and the kids that he checked in with. zoe was on his list from awhile ago. “better,” he said after a quick sip of his coffee. “we redecorated her room a little bit and she did crafts with a few of the other kids so her spirits are higher. have you had a chance to check her stats? those are looking stable. not great, but not getting worse."
it's rare for hollis to get an intern with an actual interest in ortho right off the bat, most of them flocking towards the flashier specialties of plastics or neuro before they really get their hands in everything. maddie had been a special case, one in a million — but she's starting to really shine on her own these days, doesn't need hollis hovering over her shoulder for every consult or procedure so she's not necessarily mad about taking on more students right now. she stands beside said student now, a brow raising as she listens to the fight going on behind the patients closed door. she snorts, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if it would erase the sounds going on. "he's probably going to need a psych eval before the acl follow-up," she sighs half to herself. "but no, i'm not getting in the middle of that one. it's above our pay grade. i'll send the social worker down to check in on them and let her help them work it out."
she starts down the hallway, hands in her scrub pockets. the overhead fluorescents catch the faint strain in her eyes and hollis is already planning on hunting down a cup of halfway decent coffee. she glances at miller from the corner of her eye, stopping at the board long enough to scan the afternoon schedule. "you'll need to do the post-op notes for that," she points out, head tilting back towards the way that they came from. "other than that, we've got a consult in trauma and an orif on a broken wrist in two hours."
hollis was great at her specialty, so great that while watching her perform the operation, miller fell a little bit more in love with ortho. his mind still drifted to neurology and the cases he worked with ryan recently, but there was something about orthopedics still tugging him back. either way, miller didn’t have to make a decision right now — he wasn’t sure he was even allowed to right now, with the restructuring happening. so he would continue to work with everyone he was assigned to, and wonder how hard it would be to have a dual specialty. “d’you think this is a picking a fight to validate a break up type of situation?” miller asked as they escaped down the hall. “i’ve been on the receiving end of that situation. so like, that’s intense if it is.”
quickly following down the hall, miller stated making mental notes about adding post op notes on his to do list. ‘post-op, got it.” he said. “and i’ll call about the consult. if it’s the college kid in 185, the nurses said he was leaving ama. something about a frat ritual.” opening the next set of doors for hollis, miller raised an eyebrow. “so, two hours to kill huh? want to tell me about your halloween weekend over some mediocre coffee and even worse snacks?”
when something goes wrong in their house, the first call eve, priya or sienna makes is to their unofficial handy-man, miller. it's a role he probably didn't want to take on, but in the last three months he's become their go-to on if something stops working -- tonight's event being the strange noise in their sink, and whatever is blocking it from draining. her nose wrinkles, arms crossed over her chest as she talks to half of miller's body -- eve watches as she works under the sink, giving him a look when he sticks his head out. "we both know for the sake of this rental, it's better if you're under the sink." she points out, a bit entertained by her own words. "personally, i wouldn't have tossed the lysol across the room." it's an exaggeration at best, her laughter making it clear she's just giving him shit. "still questionable, though." her eyes narrow, leaning towards him as she speaks.
at the question, eve sighs, shrugging a shoulder. between her, priya and sienna (and the occasional eli or ryan), it's a gamble on who did what to cause the blockage. all she knows is that after using the flashlight on her phone, she spotted the ring -- but managed to knock it further down when she attempted to get it. hence the frantic call to miller, rather than to the actual plumber. once he's got the ring, eve immediately steps forward to examine it -- shocked to realize it had been one of hers. "oh my god," she plucks it from his hand, "i've been looking for this all week -- i thought i left it in the intern locker room or something."
he really didn’t mind helping his friends out when it came to things like this. he did enough fix ups and minor repairs at home that it has become something of a hobby — that and he knows how much some people in the area for a half assed job. so if his friends were complaining about a weird noise in their sink drain, he was going to look at it. however he wasn’t completely sure why eve felt the need to observe. “exactly,” he said when she pointed out the reason he was the one that cleared up a space to lay down in her kitchen cabinet. “so let me work — and don’t worry about that lysol bottle, it got what was coming for it.” once the cause of the issues was identified, the fix was quick.
hooking the ring around his pinky, miller closed up his work space and slid out from the cabinet. “i believe this is yours,” he said with a flourish, offering the ring over to her before starting to clean up the offensive mess he’s left. “so how exactly did that go from your finger to the drain?” he asked curiously, closing the cabinet once the last of the cleaning supplies was stored back up. “though i can’t lie, i’m glad you didnt shove your hand down the garbage disposal to go looking for it.”
Spencer looks at Miller from under his lashes, a glare meeting the tongs that he's changed over to. No wonder this guy isn't getting laid, he thinks to himself. Then again, maybe that's why he was close to going down the aisle-- he was a lot warmer than his harsh friend. "Or because you're making me food," he says, assuring Miller there's definitely a third option. Spencer was glad to bring over the food if he wasn't the one meant to cook it. He'd had a similar setup with Indira, where he'd been happy to pay for the takeout they ate or supply the food that his chef had made during his time spent in Spencer's apartment. Spencer leans back, stretching his back in the chair as he does-- his ass starting to go numb as he studies the cases awaiting Miller to get done with their meal. "You're still upset about that? Isn't your mourning time over?" Spencer sighs. Of course, the resident wasn't exactly the 'heartbroken' type. "It's so boring."
“anyone ever tell you you’re no fun?” miller retorted at the look on spencer’s face. “does it cause you physical pain to laugh?” he asked with a snort as he puts the tongs back down. “ah,” he mused, kicking his feet up into the open chair beside him. “so the way to your heart is a home cooked meal, noted.” his smirk turned downward as his friend asked about his mourning time. and realistically yeah, it was over, but it was a weird situation. “it’s not that i’m upset,” miller said, drumming his fingers on the table. “or mourning.” what he wanted to say was something along the lines of she doesn’t think about me, so why should i think about her? but besides the fact that was melodramatic and miller knew that spencer would have a field day with it, it was also going to be a lie. he doesnt think about her every day, but sometimes when things are too quiet he wonders about what went wrong. “like sorry if my ego’s bruised. you man to tell me if someone ended your engage ment in favor of the cliche of the man she told me not to worry about and yu’d just let it go?”
"okay obviously i agree with that. i barely remember what real food tastes like." ever since starting at pine valley, lottie's three main food groups have become coffee, hot cheetos from the vending machine, and picked over scraps from the pot lucks the older nurses throw for everyone's birthdays.
lottie walks through the door glancing back at miller with a shrug. "protein is the new bread." she says simply. "in the 90s it was like you were supposed to have eight servings of bread a day based on the food pyramid. and surprise, that many carbs actually isn't great for anyone who isn't running a marathon once a week and now everyone is allergic to gluten. now everything is macros this and protein that. like why are we trying to shove 10 grams of extra protein into everything. in ten years it's gonna be like 'well that was a mistake oops.' that's all i'm saying."
“alright so that’s what i’m sayin’,” miller accentuated sipping his drink and pulling a face as the hot beverage hit the back of his throat. he probably should’ve gotten iced, but at this point, he wasn’t even tasting the coffee, just mainlining it for the energy. “but whenever i go to cook when i get home i fall asleep until i have to leave for my next shift.” and when it came to cooking over his days off — he always ends up inviting people over to try whatever recipe he came up with. there were never any leftovers.
narrowing his eyes, miller took a long step to catch up and match her strides. “right —” he was trying to follow her logic. “i’m not saying this in a gym bro type of way…just in a ‘your brain needs at least some protein to operate properly” way. the way sleep is!” stepping into the break room, miller turned to lottie. “which like, on that note — you still living on your cousin’s couch?”
"warzone," sam repeats, a solumn creep in his voice, "you think that was the goal? to scare a bunch of hyper-competative doctors into killing each other? you'd think sullivan's turned the er floor into a gladiator arena." he's managed to stay out of the way of the fight and has so far been unscathed. but there are whispers that the madness will come for everyone eventually. "you think they can fuck with the nursing staff?" he asks, wanting someone to tell him they're probably safe. "they can't, can they?"
sam is happy to put the fear over his job security aside for romance. "you know i'm just gonna pick your sluttiest dress right?"
“i think that’s the next step for sure,” indira said, leaning back in her said and shrugging a shoulder. “i think the problem is that then people would start challenging him and i know a bunch of people that could kick his ass, so an arena is inviting disaster. i think he’s hoping they pick each other off.” her friend’s question made the other nurse pause. ‘“i mean it would be harder to fire some of us,” she said after a second of consideration. “i think most of us are part of the union right? sullivan doesn’t seem like the type to want to jump through hoops. so i think we’re safe.” indira, at least, was behaving like she was safe.
rolling her eyes a little, indira pulled her instagram up and found the outfit photo she took the last time she went out with hollis. “okay well let’s think classy and slutty. this is what i wore last time.” pushing her phone to sam, indy leaned her elbows on the table. “which i could wear again, but i don’t want to outfit repeat on our second date y’know? there’s an orange one somewhere in there that i think would look good.”