who: priya & miller | @ncbodyssoldier where: a patient's room in the neuro wing
she hadn’t meant to break the damn thing. really, she hadn’t. priya had just been trying to wash her hands after rounds, same as any other morning, but she’d leaned a little too hard on the faucet while turning it off and the whole metal handle came loose with a sickening clunk. and now, because she doesn't know who else to call without getting chewed out for it, she’s done what any panicked, half-delirious intern on the later half of their too long shift would do: she’s paged miller. 911, no less.
the sound of running water fills the room—not flooding, thank god, but definitely not stopping either. priya is crouched over the sink with a towel in hand, trying to twist the broken handle back into place, muttering something that sounds vaguely like a prayer. “come on, come on, please just-” the metal clanks again, water splashing across her sleeve. she flinches and groans, wringing out the cuff uselessly.
by the time she hears footsteps in the hallway, she’s already accepted her fate: she's going to die here, wrist-deep in a half-broken sink. “before you say anything,” she calls out without turning around, “i know this looks bad, but technically it was already kind of broken. i just… accelerated the process.”