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Summary
“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Dennis whispered, sidling up to Trinity, a half eaten granola bar in his hand. “So… precise.”
Trinity snorted. “She’s a robot, Huckleberry. A very well dressed, anal retentive robot.”
“But she’s good,” Dennis murmured, almost to himself. “She caught that arrhythmia in South 5 before anyone else did.”
Trinity shot him a look. “Don’t go over to the dark side, Whitaker. We’re suffering together.”
He gave her a sympathetic grin. “You gonna get those charts done?”
AKA: Trinity is stuck in a constant toxic cycle with Garcia, and maybe finds something different in a particular doctor that drives her crazy in more ways than one.