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"Yeah, and he tried to gift me his house a few hours ago," Dennis says, laughing nervously into his pint of Coors. "Like, pretty sure we all took the same mandatory reporter training, Robby."
"Huckleberry, that's actually intense as fuck," Trinity replies, her eyebrows creased like when she’s sincerely concerned about a patient. She won’t touch him, but he feels her full attention facing him, her cider neglected. "I'm sorry that happened to you, dude. That's scary."
Dennis shrugs, because how else was he meant to respond to startling empathy from the woman who'd easily had the worst shift of all of them?
"I guess I'm just confused, like, why me?” Dennis asks, throwing his hands up defeatedly. “I get being generous, but like, me? You're looking for a place, too, right Javadi?"
Victoria is slid halfway down the booth, barely keeping her eyes open, and Dennis laughs when Trinity kicks her gently under the table. "Listen, Crash, if you pass out at the table while being underage, they're definitely kicking us all out."
"Yes, Dennis," Victoria says around a yawn before shooting a familiar glare at Trinity. "I've been trying to move out of my parents' place for ages, but somehow I don't think they'd be cool with me living in a senior attending's house."
"It's fucking crazy, to be fair,” Trinity murmurs, grasping at her bottle again. “I can’t recommend shacking up with an attending.”
“I could’ve told you that,” Javadi sighs, and Trinity kicks her less gently under the table. Dennis loves when Victoria talks back, it reminds him of how his nieces fight and make up.
“You wish you had a messy workplace situationship,” Trinity teases, sticking her tongue out. “I see the way you look when Nurse Mateo shows up.”
“Shut up,” Victoria groans, but it’s giddy and giggly, indulgent. She takes a nervous sip of her rum and coke, and Trinity smiles fondly at her.
“Even if it’s not a real relationship, it does make the day go faster,” she admits. Dennis is about to fight her on that, tell her she deserves better, when she continues, “Better than some farm girl with a baby I have to see on weekends.”
“Mmm, actually, Robby told me to stop seeing her,” Dennis says, then flinches slightly at how obedient it sounds. Trinity huffs a laugh while Victoria stares at him curiously.
“Damn, Huckleberry, who’s in a messy workplace situationship now?” Trinity teases, sounding almost impressed, and Dennis tries not to blush as he rolls his eyes. Truthfully, Robby’s favoritism had felt really nice, before the thinly veiled cry for help soured everything.
“It’s not like that,” he objects, trying to convince himself as much as his friends.
“Maybe that’s why he gave you his house keys,” Victoria piles on conspiratorially, smirking around her straw as Dennis stutters for a response, as Trinity shrieks gleefully.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she sighs, recovering. “Do we really think Dr. Robby could be…?” Trinity trails off, and Whittaker hurries to finish his first pint so that he can handle this conversation.
Victoria considers for a moment before offering, “I don’t think he’s ever been married, not that that means anything.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s like, a womanizer,” Trinity observes. “Like, wasn’t there a vibe with him and Collins last year?”
“And the tension with Al Hashimi this whole shift,” Victoria adds, grimacing before tilting her head to the side. “I don’t know. Hard to read.”
“Isn’t he kind of weird with Abbot?” Dennis interjects, and Santos almost jumps out of her seat.
“He is weird about Abbot,” she agrees vehemently. “They’re always crowding each other. Kind of possessive, or something.”
“Robby said he’d normally have Abbot house sit, but he didn’t want to scare his elderly neighbors, because apparently Abbot does nude yoga.”
“Ew,” Victoria assessed succinctly, and Trinity snorted.
“Abbot’s probably still doing his intake,” Dennis sighs, running his fingertips through his hair frenetically. “If it’s a thing, it’s like… a real fucking thing.”
“Hey,” Trinity interrupts seriously, catching his attention again. “It’s a voluntary hold, he’s just taking care of himself.”
“There are great clinical outcomes for people who admit themselves,” Victoria agrees, comforting them all in the language she knows best.
“Abbot’s just helping fill out forms and make decisions that Robby’s too tired to make right now,” Trinity continues, and Dennis has yet to peel back her familiarity with psychiatric care, but he appreciates how generous she is with advice. “That’s all an emergency contact is, really.”
“Wait, should you know my medical history then?” Dennis asks, and Trinity softens in a way he’s never seen before.
“I’m your emergency contact?” she repeats, brimming with affection, and Dennis warms again as she leans into his space until he nods relentingly. “Aw, Huckleberry, you’re my emergency contact, too.”
“You guys should definitely exchange medical histories, prescriptions, allergies…” Victoria notes distantly, and Dennis peels his eyes off Trinity to smile across the table. Dennis was so grateful for their little trio he could only relax into his buzz and admire the women across from him as they flipped each other off.
“I have an idea,” Dennis exclaims suddenly, fishing around in his pocket to pull the simple bottle opener keychain Robby had gifted him at the end of the shift. “How would you two like to be roommates for the weekend?”
Victoria laughs first, while Trinity blurts, “What?”
“I’ll have a place to stay, at least 72 hours. I could use the alone time, and it sounds like Victoria could use some space from her family.”
“Dennis, are you serious?” they both say at the same time, and Dennis grins.
“In all the chaos, no one ever asked for the keys back. I thought at least I could stop by, clean things up for him.”
“Light some scented candles, bake some cookies?” Trinity scoffs, and Whittaker turns to Victoria.
“Do you like Housewives?” he asks, and Victoria frowns in confusion.
“If that’s what they choose for themselves after carefully examining their internalized patriarchy, sure,” she answers finally, which makes Trinity scoff again.
“The show,” Dennis clarifies on her behalf.
“Oh, no,” Victoria answers shyly, always disappointed to dissappoint. “I am three seasons into Sex and the City right now, though.”
“Oh my god, you are such a Charlotte,” Trinity assesses instantaneously, and Victoria gapes in mock offense.
“I’m a Miranda, thank you very much,” she defends, and Trinity laughs heartily. “It’s true, I took a very millennial Buzzfeed quiz! Okay, maybe I’m a Charlotte, but you’re like, a Carrie who thinks she’s a Samantha.”
“A Carrie?” Trinity gasps in mock horror.
“Is Garcia not your Mr. Big?” Victoria fires back, a little too proud of herself.
“See, this would be a wonderful topic to debate and discuss as roommates for the weekend,” Dennis redirects before the sniping can start in earnest. “It’s settled.”
“Can’t believe you’re leveraging your boss’s psych hold to set us up for a slumber party,” Trinity teases.
“Deeply Huckleberry behavior,” Victoria concurs.
“Hey!” Dennis objects.