rumour has it
Trinity fumbled hard when it came to Garcia. Hard enough that every surgical consult has her considering dropping a scalpel into her own foot just to get out of it. But when the night shift attending finds herself on day shift with a discerning eye and a hint of a smirk, Trinity's intrigued. And when she says she knows exactly how to make Garcia jealous, Trinity jumps at the chance. Though... Maybe not for the best of reasons.
“Sure, uh… Fifty three year old male, MVA. Car vs brick wall. Going fifty five miles an hour with massive intrusion into the cabin and requiring extraction. Flail chest, massive internal bleeding, the POCUS couldn’t make out the primary but I think it’s his spleen, and…”
“How many bags of fluid?” She cuts Trinity off with efficiency, she can practically imagine the scalpel cutting through her words. She swallows around her tongue. She was used to feeling about two inches tall during report, but this was new. Walsh looked her up and down for a moment, obviously waiting.
“Two. Sorry, two bags.” She puts both hands on the bed rail, because she doesn’t know what to do with them. Except maybe beat some sense into herself. Fuck, did they only hire the hottest surgeons known to mankind? Ones specifically designed to turn her into a joke rather than a doctor?Was it some kind of policy she didn’t know about? Had she pissed off some ancient god who had now cursed her?
“Why are you sorry?” She smiled at that. Just a little, and it was mean behind the eyes, but she was looking at Trinity like she was prey and that made her hot under the PPE she was in, and her brain just blanked, not a single coherent reply within reach.
