(no subject)

[jesus_h_cox]

He'd already read through every single chart. Twice. He'd even started from Z and worked his way to A, all in one clinic shift. Not even a crappy bandage job. There was a false alarm where someone had leaned their blond head in to ask about cleaning, and Dr. Cox had briefly considered kicking her legs out from under her and breaking her modest little legs just to have someone to work on. She looked like a nun. Most of the time, Dr. Cox would have no qualms about beating the crap out of any nun, but this one looked like any and all priests had touched her in her naughty place, and who was Dr. Cox to break a victim's legs? She moved along with her tail between her legs after Dr. Cox had told her something about finding someone who gave a crap. All things considered, he was in a pretty good mood. It was early afternoon and he'd already told someone off and called someone "Walking Herpes" by his chart alone.

So, poised at the filing cabinet and ignoring the evil Macbook (he was a believer in medicine being personal; even on days when he didn't feel like dealing with people, one of his interns did and they did it with a smile, thank you), he began making up names for past (and future in some cases) patients. He decided to call the woman who had offered to clean Housekeeping Puppy, but tentatively. He needed something better. Or something better to do.

[Brief godmodding privileges for Briony given by Kat. This is your Sunday afternoon clinic post. Feel free to just come by and annoy him. Secretly, he likes that.]