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Whitaker is trying to log into the computer at the nurses station for the third time when he first notices it, and you might be wondering what that is as the password prompt blinks at him like it’s judging his intelligence? Because he knows the password obviously, he's typed it a hundred times over by now, but today for some reason his brain feels like it’s buffering, and the cursor just sits there while he stares at it.
He types it in again this time slower and more deliberately, behind him something is moving and at first he thinks it’s just foot traffic, it's a hospital people are gonna be walking around doing things, that's what they do in hospitals, but for some reason this movement has a rhythm to it if you will, it's this fast tight rhythm, like someone pacing out the shape of a small planet or Pluto to be more specific.
Eventually it makes Whitaker glance over his shoulder, and there's Ogilvie speedwalking in a perfect circle around the nurses station he's not strolling or pacing in a thoughtful dramatic way.
No it's more like speedwalking his arms bent, shoulders tight, and his head is angled slightly downward like he’s locked onto an invisible track which is making his sneakers squeak faintly against the linoleum every few seconds as he rounds the same corner again.
Whitaker blinks and at the same time the password field times out, something Whitaker fails to realise as Ogilvie completes another orbit.
This man is going so fast that the drawstrings of his scrub pants are bouncing against his hip, the badge is flipping forward everytime he takes a corner too sharply. He looks like he's training for an Olympic event nobody asked him to sign up for.
Which makes Whitaker turn fully now just resting one elbow on the counter which makes Ogilvie make eye contact with him for half a second as he passes.
And there's absolutely nothing behind that look except pure, distilled stress.
Then he's gone again.
"What," Whitaker says softly to himself, "is happening right now?"
Ogilvie rounds the station again, which makes Whitaker think okay so this isn't just a quick pacing loop, this is a commitment to something, it's cardio.
Which makes Whitaker check the clock on the wall wanting to time this strange phenomenon he's witnessing, and exactly ten seconds later Ogilvie is back in his line of sight.
He’s moving so fast that Santos actually has to flatten herself slightly against the medication cart to avoid getting clipped by him, which makes Ogilvie murmur a distracted "sorry" without breaking stride.
Which makes Santos look at Whitaker so confused, and Whitaker just waves her off he'd figure it out.
But right now he's just pressing his lips together because he's not gonna laugh, he absolutely cannot laugh in this situation 'cause if he laughs at Ogilvie's suffering he's going to either implode or start crying, honestly probably both.
Ogilvie makes another lap, and Whitaker is watching the set of his shoulders, they're up near his ears, jaw all tight, his mouth is moving like he's muttering calculations under breath, at one point he lifts a hand and rubs his forehead mid stride without slowing down for nothing.
"Okay," Whitaker mutters, pushing off the counter so his chair wheels back a bit.
Instead of doing what he's suppose to be doing, he's tracking Ogilvie like he's observing wildlife in it's natural habitat.
There’s something almost impressive about the consistency, it's the same path, speed, and every turn I'm not kidding you here is executed with military precision.
It would be concerning if it weren’t so ridiculous, especially as Ogilvie zooms past again which is making Whitaker try to put the pieces together on what exactly could have caused this.
Did someone mess up a chart?
Did Dr. Robby say something passive aggressive in that werid cheerful tone he uses?
Or did a patient’s family corner him with seventeen very specific questions about lab values?
Whitaker ponders all this as Ogilvie completes yet another lap, he nearly collides with a rolling stool before adjusting course with surprising agility and keeps going which makes Whitaker squint slightly.
"Babe," he calls lightly as he gets closer to him again.
Ogilvie glances at him mid stride.
"Can't talk right now."
"You're literally circling me."
"I'm processing."
"Processing what exactly?"
Ogilvie is already past him which makes Whitaker fold his arms 'cause processing could mean literally anything.
Especially when it comes to Ogilvie of all people he doesn't process quietly he processes kinetically, there was this one time he alphabetized the pantry at two in the morning because he couldn’t sleep, and there was also the time he reorganized the entire linen closet after one mildly tense phone conversation with his sister.
Santos wasn't very appreciative both times in case you're curious.
But this however is a brand new habit of his, it's almost like weaving in horses at least Whitaker thinks so as Ogilvie rounds the corner.
He also notices that Princess and other nurses are pretending not to stare, well Dana is giving him this subtle look that says, is he okay?
Which makes Whitaker shrugs slightly, 'cause to be honest he doesn't know either.
Ogilvie's breathing is getting heavier now but he's still moving at that same relentless pace making his sneakers squeak again.
Whitaker watches him pass trying to keep his expression neutral, but that's getting increasingly harder.
Because for some reason there's something inherently funny about the fact that Ogilvie looks like he's late for something except he's not actually going anywhere.
He's just....orbiting like a satellite.
"Okay," Whitaker says, when Ogilvie comes again, "You're wearing a groove in the floor."
"Good," Ogilvie replies tightly, "It deserves it."
That almost does it for Whitaker but he refrains himself by biting the inside of his cheek.
"What happened?"
Of course Ogilvie doesn't answer and instead does another lap, which makes Whitaker get up from his chair and stepping slightly into Ogilvie's path on his next go around, forcing him to slow down just a fraction so they don't collide.
Ogilvie stops abruptly his chest rises and falling.
"What," Whitaker says carefully, "has you doing laps like you're back in gym class?"
Ogilvie stares at him for a second before exhaling sharply through his nose.
"Dr. Robby."
Ah, yea that makes sense which makes Whitaker nod slowly because to him it only explains twenty percent of the problem.
"What he'd do?"
Ogilvie drags a hand down his face.
"He asked if I'd double check the discharge paperwork, which fine except I already double checked it, then he said and I qoute 'Just making sure we're on the same page.'"
Whitaker winces slightly, yeah that tone...
Ogilvie starts pacing again but it's slower now, it's not the full speed orbit like before no it's more of an irritated half circle before he loops back.
"I am always on the same page, I live on the same page, I breathe on the page. Hell I laminated the page."
Whitaker is pressing his lips together against, telling himself do not laugh.
"He implied," Ogilvie goes on as he picks up speed, "that I might've missed something."
"And did you?" Whitaker says gently.
Ogilvie shoots him a look that could peel paint of the hospital walls.
"No."
"Okay."
Ogilvie resumes full speed circling, well Whitaker just watches him go like some wooden horse on a carousel.
The thing is though he knows this isn’t really about the paperwork at the end of the day, it's about the tone, that subtle implication, the feeling of not being trusted when Ogilvie works himself into the ground trying to do everything right.
Still, the visual of him aggressively power walking around a central desk is not helping Whitaker keep a straight face, especially as he whips past him again.
Whitaker leans against the counter crossing his arms across his chest just observing.
"Are you timing me?" Ogilvie demands to know as he rounds the corner.
"No," Whitaker says calmly, "Should I be?"
Ogilvie huffs at that, as he does yet another lap which makes Whitaker glance at his apple watch as he passes.
"Hey, you've probably hit your step goal for the day."
Ogilvie slows slightly at this because seriously?
"That's not the point, Dennis."
"I'm just saying, sliver linings Jim."
Ogilvie stops again finally, he plants his hands on his hips and stares at Whitaker, who's holding his gaze as seriously as he can manage.
There’s a beat, which makes Ogilvie's expression waver just slightly but hey it's start.
And Whitaker sees it, his crack in the composure he's got going on, the part where he knows deep down that this is a little unhinged.
"You look like you're training for something, what's the event? Competitive brooding?"
Ogilvie's mouth twitches at this, which makes Whitaker's heart lift 'cause there it is.
"I'm not brooding."
"You're orbiting like the International Space Station."
"I'm walking, planets orbit there's a difference last time I checked."
"You're walking in circles like a planet orbiting."
Ogilvie opens his mouth to argue, then abruptly stops as he glances around.
And in that moment he seems to notice, maybe for the first time since he's started that he has indeed been carving tight loops around the nurses station like a Roomba with unresolved anger issues.
His shoulders drop a fraction, which makes Whitaker soften at the sight of him.
"C'mere," he says quietly.
Ogilvie hesitates for a second before stepping closer as Whitaker lowers his voice so only Ogilvie hears him.
"You're good at your job, you know that right?"
Ogilvie exhales slowly at this.
"I know, it's just...I hate when it feels like I'm being micromanaged."
"I know.
Another beat as Ogilvie looks down at his shoes.
"I didn't realize I was doing circles."
"Oh you were, dangerous ones at that."
Ogilvie lets out a small reluctant laugh at this which is what does it for Whitaker who laughs too, he can’t help it now it just spills out, all warm and bright cutting through the tension.
Ogilvie shakes his head at him.
"You're unbelievable."
"You almost Loony Tunes Santos."
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
Ogilvie huffs again but there’s no heat in it now as he leans his hip against the counter beside Whitaker, finally still.
The station feels much more calm now, especially as Whitaker nudges his shoulder lightly.
"Next time, maybe try a straight line."
Ogilvie rolls his eyes at this.
"Noted."
They stand there for a moment before Ogilvie sighs it's long and slow.
"I'm okay."
"I know," Whitaker replies, rubbing his shoulder.
He then glances at the computer screen behind him which has once again timed out, he still hasn't logged in like he was suppose to, Ogilvie being well him notices this.
"You were suppose to log in weren't you?"
"Yep."
"And you just decided to watch me instead."
Whitaker smiles at this.
"You're much more interesting."
Ogilvie shakes his head trying to conceal the fact he's turning red, there’s a fondness there now, the sharp edges are gone.
"Go log in before Abbot spawns in from the fax machine or something."
Whitaker laughs again at that image alone before sitting down again pushing his swivel chair in as Ogilvie finally stands still beside him no longer circling like a stressed out satellite, Whitaker can’t help wondering what Robby was thinking when he lightly questioned James Ogilvie’s competence.