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“Abbott, Robby, Al-Hashimi.”
Mel saves her chart and looks up warily at Parker, who’s hanging over the counter to talk at Mel’s preferred volume for personal conversations at work. Parker bounces slightly while Mel mentally disengages from the patient she’s trying to discharge (male, 17, sutures needed on his arm after a cooking accident, very concerned mother).
“C’moooon, King,” Parker goads when she doesn’t respond. “You said we could do three of these per shift when I’m stuck on days. I’ve only used up one so far. Let’s go. Let me hear it, girl.”
Mel sighs. She didn’t think Parker would actually take her up on that offer when she made it. At the time, Parker had been complaining about how they keep changing her schedule around ever since she agreed to work a few doubles for the extra money, and Mel felt bad for her. She’s having trouble holding that feeling, now, when she would rather be finishing up on her patient.
“Ellis, why’re you harassing Mel?”
Mel feels her spine automatically straighten at his voice, but she tries not to make it obvious. She can’t help but turn to look at him, though, as he ambles into view, coming to stop beside Parker. He’s wearing a blue shirt beneath his scrub top today, and it makes his eyes somehow seem even bluer. It should be studied. For science.
“I’m not harassing her,” Parker protests, rolling her eyes at Mel. “I’m not your sorry ass, trailing behind her like a puppy looking for a treat. I’m having a conversation.”
Frank hums, unconvinced. “Usually both people talk in a conversation, and I didn’t see Mel talking. I did see her charting, though, which you’ve interrupted.”
“You’re no fun,” Parker huffs, gently knocking into his shoulder. “Fine, I’ll go check on my labs. King, I expect your answer when I return.”
Mel watches her departure for a moment before turning back to her chart. She doesn’t realize Frank is still standing there until he asks, “What was all that about?”
She feels her cheeks heat up and wishes she’d made her escape with Parker. “Oh, just a dumb game.” She types a couple of words and tries in vain to ignore the heat of his expectant gaze. After typing the same word three times in a row, she sighs and looks back up. He’s leaning against the counter, now, his bicep flexing just in her eyeline, and she chooses his nose as a relatively safe place to rest her gaze. “Um, you know how people like to play the game where you have to say who you would marry, kill, or, um—” Mel raises her eyebrows at him meaningfully, not keen on dropping an f bomb at the central hub for no reason, but he seems to take that as an invitation to fill in the blank.
“Fuck,” Frank finishes, nodding, and Mel feels that down to her toes. She swallows and bravely perseveres.
“The night shift really likes playing that, I guess.” She scratches behind her ear, trying and failing (yet again) to forget the conversation she’d had to listen to between Parker and Henderson about whether Frank would be better to fuck or marry out of the trio of him, Whitaker, and Jesse. Mel kept accidentally frowning at Dennis when she was back on days, remembering how quickly and remorselessly they had killed him. “But I find it, um, inappropriate. And upsetting. So we kind of invented an alternate version?”
Frank looks delighted. “Hell yeah. Hit me.” He softens into the smile she thinks of as hers, even though that’s probably self-important of her. It’s just that she’s never seen him use it around anyone else. “I mean, what’re the new categories?”
Mel blows out a breath. “Maroon on a deserted island, co-parent with, or partner with for a required lab prereq.” Frank laughs, his head thrown back and his Adam’s apple biteable, and Mel tries to keep her eyes on his nose. “That way we don’t have to kill or, um, y’know a colleague. Or somebody we don’t actually know, like a celebrity. I don’t want to wish that on someone.”
Frank tilts his head. “But won’t the person on the deserted island die?”
Mel shakes her head. This had been a major topic of discussion during the creation of the game. “No, not necessarily. It’s like how Captain Jack Sparrow could get out of being marooned. I like to start with that one, and figure out who would have the best chance to survive in those conditions or have a creative approach to escaping.”
Frank nods along, his lips still quirked up in amusement.
“Alright, I’m sold. Who were the three Ellis just asked about?”
Parker reappears then, leaning against the counter and knocking back into Frank’s shoulder.
“Why am I not surprised you’re still talking to Mel after telling me not to annoy her when she’s charting.”
“The difference is that I don’t annoy her,” Frank replies cheekily. Mel bites her lip to avoid smiling too obviously. It’s unfair how he makes everything look so charming, even when he is being a little annoying. “Right, Mel?”
Mel sees an opportunity for escape. “Neither of you annoy me,” she says, logging off and rising from her stool. “But I do need to discharge my patient, so maybe you two can entertain each other. Frank is very excited to play.”
She tries not to look too relieved as she hurries towards North Four. That was a little too close for comfort—
“No way,” Parker says, voice closer than it should be, and Mel accepts defeat. She turns back around to find Parker almost caught up to her, Frank still laughing against the counter. “I know you have an answer, King. Go.”
Mel sighs and stares determinedly up at the ceiling. Of course she has an answer. She knew it about 30 seconds after hearing the prompt.
“Abandon Abbott on the island, because I have complete faith in his ability to make the best of that situation, whether it’s continued survival or escape. Co-parent with Al-Hashimi, because she’s already a mother and she’d bring experience. Also, I think we probably have compatible values. Partner with Robby, even though I don’t know that he would have been my favorite lab partner, since I think he probably had a way he wanted things done, but I dealt with worse.” She drops her gaze. Parker is nodding, grinning, and Frank’s mouth has dropped open in a way that should look dumb but somehow just looks hot. Ugh. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Excellent choices. You and Al-Hashimi would raise some very smart and idiosyncratic kids.” Mel frowns, not sure if she should be offended, but Parker barrels on, “Alright, I get one more today. Me, Mohan, Langd–”
“Nope!” Mel tries not to interrupt people, she really does, but she’s done here. She’s trying not to look back at Frank, but she can still see his stupid mouth open out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll see you later, Parker! I have to discharge this patient now!”
She spins back around, heart pounding, and makes it all the way to her patient’s room this time. She waits outside for a minute, hoping her blush will dissipate, and mentally congratulates herself on avoiding a situation where she accidentally spirals about co-parenting with Frank in front of Frank. With a deep breath, she swings the curtain back, professional smile in place.
Sometimes she wonders if it was easier when everybody ignored her.