Amber sat cross-legged on the stool, reviewing who she'd seen that day. The list wasn't as long as it could've been; normally she whipped through the patients, trying to beat her personal records for getting people in and out. (Her highest and lowest scores varied wildly, but only because the ultimate factor in how long each visit took were the patients themselves, and Amber couldn't control who walked into the clinic on a given day.)
But since she was going to spend the whole day in the clinic, together with five other doctors, Amber paced herself more slowly. She took the time to listen to her patients for more than just their symptoms, as doctors should. For the most part all she heard was irrelevant data and gossip, like what classes that college boy was taking, but one teenager made an off-hand comment about hand tremors; answers to follow up questions suggested that she probably had a thyroid disorder. Amber sent the poor girl off to an endocrinologist. She might've missed that, if she'd been rushing through the long waiting line.
Clinic hours weren't nearly as terrible when not run through them like a frat kid downing booze to get drunk as fast possible. While she wouldn't want to spend every day of the rest of her life doing diagnosing pedestrian head colds and imaginary health issues, as a way to take a near-break and chat with random strangers, it was actually pleasant.
She could get through at least one more patient today, two, if she hurried. She wouldn't. Which was why, when an impatient jerk opened the door, Amber snapped at them. As satisfied as she was with her day's work, it irked her that anyone would mess with her schedule. "I'll get to you, just wait a se-- oh." Amber straightened up as much as she could on the metal-and-plastic stool. She smiled; if Eric were serious, he wouldn't have called her that. It was good to see him, like flopping face-first onto a bed after walking for hours. "Of course, Dr. Foreman. Need a consult?" She got to her feet, leaving the folders on the seat and stalking towards him, eyes narrowing. "Or perhaps you're in need of an examination?" It’d been a while since she’d last used doctor-themed flirtations; trite as they were, she wanted to try them out on Eric.
no subject
But since she was going to spend the whole day in the clinic, together with five other doctors, Amber paced herself more slowly. She took the time to listen to her patients for more than just their symptoms, as doctors should. For the most part all she heard was irrelevant data and gossip, like what classes that college boy was taking, but one teenager made an off-hand comment about hand tremors; answers to follow up questions suggested that she probably had a thyroid disorder. Amber sent the poor girl off to an endocrinologist. She might've missed that, if she'd been rushing through the long waiting line.
Clinic hours weren't nearly as terrible when not run through them like a frat kid downing booze to get drunk as fast possible. While she wouldn't want to spend every day of the rest of her life doing diagnosing pedestrian head colds and imaginary health issues, as a way to take a near-break and chat with random strangers, it was actually pleasant.
She could get through at least one more patient today, two, if she hurried. She wouldn't. Which was why, when an impatient jerk opened the door, Amber snapped at them. As satisfied as she was with her day's work, it irked her that anyone would mess with her schedule. "I'll get to you, just wait a se-- oh." Amber straightened up as much as she could on the metal-and-plastic stool. She smiled; if Eric were serious, he wouldn't have called her that. It was good to see him, like flopping face-first onto a bed after walking for hours. "Of course, Dr. Foreman. Need a consult?" She got to her feet, leaving the folders on the seat and stalking towards him, eyes narrowing. "Or perhaps you're in need of an examination?" It’d been a while since she’d last used doctor-themed flirtations; trite as they were, she wanted to try them out on Eric.