It is 2005, and Carlisle Cullen has been working the late shift at the blood bank on the first floor of Cook County General Hospital for the past three months
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He's got an order, a white half-folded paper in his hand, as part of his physical. But it's a hospital he hasn't been in before, so he's left walking through hallways, haplessly lost after the last minute or two.
Retracing his steps had not helped. Only made him sure he was lost.
"Excuse me," He said to the first person he passed, reaching up to ruffle his fingers in his hair, not quite embarrassed or chagrin, put there was the air to it. Whether pressed more upon or honest. "Could you help me?"
Carlisle startles at the sudden voice in his presence. He'd known the boy was there - could smell him as soon as he stepped onto the floor - but the fact that he talked to him --
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Retracing his steps had not helped. Only made him sure he was lost.
"Excuse me," He said to the first person he passed, reaching up to ruffle his fingers in his hair, not quite embarrassed or chagrin, put there was the air to it. Whether pressed more upon or honest. "Could you help me?"
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Well. Might as well look at the guy.
"I can try?"
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Carlisle's gaze shifts downward again to see if he can't read the paperwork himself. He'll have to do it; no one else here.
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