@Natasha
Natalie listened silently.
Natalie listened silently.
"Yeah, pretty much." Dove smiled, "Dr. Tamara, anything you want to say?"
"Nah. I'm good with listening." Natalie returned. "And it's just Natalie, remember?"
Oliver hummed in agreement as two elevators opened at the same time. He stared at them blankly, unsure which was going up and which was going on.
Dove grabbed their hands and jumped into the right one.
Oliver's face heated up red, his heart beating a little faster than normal. Could I be getting sick? I'll check for symptoms like this later. He mentally noted. "You think my sandwich is still there?"
Natalie laughed and let Dove pull her into the elevator. "I'm not sure. Probably not." She answered Oliver.
He let out an exasperated sigh and let his shoulders drop. "That's depressing." He mumbled.
Natahie punched Oliver's shoulder lightly.
Briar suddenly popped out of seemingly nowhere.
“Howdy.”
"Briar? Shouldn't you be resting?" Oliver immediately fussed over her. "That was a serious surgery." He added, worry flashing in his eyes.
Caroline rushed over to the room where the Walter's were waiting. On her way there, she bumped into Oliver, Natalie, Dove and Briar.
“Yes..but I got bored.” She said plainly, not a note of sarcasm laced her tone.
“I want to scrub in on a surgery. Very. Very. Badly.”
(does that mean she wants to see surgery or something?)
"It doesn't matter what you want. You need rest. Imagine if one of your own patients just got up and left after a sever surgery! You'd be afraid wouldn't you? Please get some rest. I'll stay with you if you want. I'm uh… off for the rest of the day." Oliver coughed out the last few words, trying his best to avoid crying again.
“Ugh..fine..” Brair limped back to her room her shoulders slumped over. She turned to Oliver and motioned for him to follow her.
“C’mon..I think we both need some comfort after what happened today. Plus, I’ve got a stash of chocolate in my bedside drawer..” she said softly. It was not long after she finished her sentence that she felt a slight tinge in her stomach.
“Ouch..”
Oliver immediately went to her side. "C'mon. Don't need you doing anymore damage. You're fragile right now." He was about to wrap his arms around her shoulders, but thought the better of it. "Hold on one sec!" He disappeared around the corner and came back pushing an empty wheelchair. "Let me push you back? Please?" He pouted, trying to convince her.
“My room is literally five steps away!” Brair was sick of being treated like a child (though, she was acting like one). She inched her way in the door, stumbled over the threshold, and collapsed into bed.
“See..I’m alright!” She wanted to prove that she could handle anything thrown in her direction. And she did, at least this once.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I just worry a lot." Oliver took a seat on the chair at her bedside, his stomach letting out a ferocious growl. "Where'd you say that chocolate was again?" He asked, face flushing with embarrassment.
She giggled and pointed to her beside table’s drawer.
“Take what you want, I honestly don’t care for chocolate.”
"You're crazy." Oliver shook his head in bewilderment, happily snatching chocolate from the drawer. "Chocolate's the only thing that keeps me going sometimes, you know?" He raised an eyebrow at Briar. Chocolate was smeared around his mouth and his cheeks were clearly stuffed with it as well, for they were ridiculously puffed out, making his speech slurred.
“Um, Oliver..it’s kinda..everywhere on your face?” Briar stifled her laughter as she handed him a napkin.
“I’m growing up up in an army family, and of course, my father doesn’t allow sweets in the house. He expects me to go into the service at eighteen..but, I’ve seen the effects of war..especially with my older brother Cade..he has PTSD..”
Oliver's cheeks darkened with embarrassment as he quickly wiped off his face. "Your father wants you to serve? Even though you already work full time in a hospital? I know it's not my place to say anything, but that decision is totally up to you, Briar."
“It’s..more complicated than that, Oliver..my dad is a hard man to reason with once he gets his mind set on something. I’ve tried, believe me. But..I um..paid the price for it.” Brair looked down at the caved in scar that was just below her knee.
“He shot me..”
"He shot you?" Oliver's mouth dropped open. "But! He can't-" He stammered, shellshocked. "Are you okay?" He finally whispered.
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