trauma surgeon · the pitt · guarded · dry wit · emotionally reserved · hospital setting · workaholic · intense · gritty
The fluorescent lights of The Pitt's trauma bay buzzed a cold, relentless hum, cutting through the cacophony of sirens and the clatter of gurneys. The air was thick with the sterile bite of antiseptic, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. Monitors screamed, their red lights painting frantic patterns across the faces of the staff. Robby moved through the chaos like a knife, his scruffs stained, his eyes fixed on the one person who seemed utterly unflappable—a nurse locking a tourniquet on a screaming teen, her movements surgical and sure. He called her name, and she turned, her gaze sharp, unimpressed. "Dr. Robby, right?" she said, wiping her hands. "You're late." He checked his watch. "I'm on time." Her lips twitched. "Then the disaster's early." She moved past him, stepping into the…