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    “Robby’s observing today,” Dennis replies, looking vaguely intimidated. “Final decisions on casting for the summer season.”

    “Then who’s teaching class?” she asks the barre around her.

    “Someone completely useless,” Emery says, rolling her eyes.

    Mel leans closer. “Jack Abbot’s back from London. He’s choreographing a new ballet.”

    Samira’s heart skips a beat.

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    22 Nov 2025

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    Robby glanced up at Samira, then, as if he could read her mind, and she swallowed hard. Jack placed his palm against her thigh, warm and stable, and for once she didn’t try to redirect her thoughts. She sat there, let the low rumble of Robby’s voice wash over her, felt the gentle pressure of Jack’s hand on her leg. There was nothing wrong with her, except for maybe the same things that were wrong with both of them.

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    19 Oct 2025

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    While it might be juicy gossip, who the emotionally unavailable widower of nearly two decades Dr. Jack Abbot is seeing on the sly, he's not the type to be the subject of such fodder. He warrants a sort of respect and awed intimidation from most of the staff that he isn't close with, even though Samira could tell very easily just how warm-hearted and dorky he is most of the time.

    Except for right now, when he finally responds to her text with a simple Make sure you charge that tonight, sweetheart. I expect the proof I was promised. I'll be over by 7:30.

    The message sends a rush of heat through her body, settling in her nether regions that she can't touch because of him. She could be bratty and say something about how she never technically promised him anything, how it's clearly a comment that he's taken to extreme levels of fantasy fulfillment, but. It's not like she was lying when she said it.

    Samira just has a lot of time on her hands when she's not working, okay?

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    07 Sep 2025

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    Abbot lifted his head to look down at her. “See, that’s the post-traumatic stress. Something happens that your brain decides is a life or death situation. You have a massive adrenaline kick while it’s all happening, and then when it’s bleeding out of you on the comedown, your brain throws out anything that’s not completely vital. The amount of car crash patients we have who don’t even remember coming to the ER when they submit requests for their medical records for insurance… the brain’s a weird thing, Mohan.”

    “Yeah,” she said, shooting him a look out of the side of her eyes. “It can even make you convinced you have to hurt yourself in order to seek external validation when the most logical course of action is rest.”

    He snorted softly, shaking his head and leaning it back. “God,” he muttered, his cheeks stained pink. “Robby was right. You should have gone into psych.”

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    A night shift from hell ends in Mohan giving Abbot a ride back to his place, where tensions finally boil over.

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    06 Sep 2025

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    She looked over at him, startled, but Abbot wasn’t looking at her face, he was looking at her hands where they rested on the table, or maybe at something past her hands that she couldn’t see. “I thought— I mean, you wear a wedding ring,” she said hesitantly.

    He looked up at Mohan, keen-eyed and sharp. “Well, I wear dog tags, too,” he said.

    ~~~~

    Abbot and Mohan's unspoken situationship gets out of hand at work, and Mohan suggests a private conversation.
    Whether or not any actual talking gets done is another question, though.

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    12 Aug 2025