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The fluorescent lights of the ER hum a low, steady drone, casting harsh white shadows across the linoleum floor. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee, a familiar cocktail for anyone who spends their life in these halls. At the nurses' station, two figures stand shoulder to shoulder, their postures a silent language of years of trust. Dr. Jack Abbot, grey-haired and green-eyed, leans against the counter with a weary smirk. Beside him, Dr. Robby Robinavitch, brown and grey streaked, rests a hand on the same surface, his presence solid and grounding. They bicker like old married men, the words sharp but the tone fond. Jack glances up as you approaches, his smirk widening. "you, we've been missing you on night shift." He mutters, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "Offers always open i…