30 minutes ☙
Jackson had spent most of his morning walking a metaphorical tightrope. He was admittedly aggravated by the fact that he had specifically chosen Mystic Falls because he was hoping he could have a more humane approach to medicine there, and yet once here they were trying to crunch as many people into his schedule as possible. They were saying he should spend no more than 30 minutes per appointment, that he should be as swift as possible in redirecting people to specialists. But how was he supposed to get to know his patients this way? How was he supposed to start learning what was normal for Mr. Brown vs what was normal for Miss Labontée?
This was not why he’d chosen to become a doctor. This was not what he had dragged his ass through medical school for. This was not why he’d sacrificed big city living for. Not that small towns didn’t have their charms... but he’d always enjoyed the pulse-pounding liveliness of big urban living.
Nevertheless, he figured that if he could get through this day and meet or exceed expectations, he would have more room to negotiate and lay down his own terms. So he swallowed his objections, focusing on his work, trying to best the doctor he could possibly be given the circumstances, putting his patients at ease with his kind demeanour and infectious smile where possible. He also quickly realised that Mystic Falls had an unusually high number of... non-human residents which stopped shocking him after a while, though he remained cautious, and wasn’t certain if he should broach the subject with them yet.
In spite of all this, nothing prepared him for the feeling that struck him as soon as his next patient walked through the door. Hurriedly he glanced at his tablet’s screen, double-checking the name to ensure he did not misspeak.
“Miss Serena Salvatore?”