God damn it, Dr. Cox needed his own hut.
As his eyes slid over supply lists and patient's names, this is what he was thinking, over and over. Living college-style was absolutely ridiculous, and he'd hated it in college, so he hated it even more, now. Not to mention his roommate or bunkmate or whatever was a stark raving psycho and not in that
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When he returned, he had a cup, a straw, and two Vicodin.
"Dr. Bartowski's boyfriend is also a doctor," Cox declared upon hisd return. "Dr. Woodcomb. And well... he's just Awesome." His voice dripped with sarcasm, and if that wasn't enough, the scowl likely was. "I'm gonna give you a choice, there, pincushion. I've got two Vicodin. I don't see any history of drug abuse on your chart, so I'm gonna go ahead and offer you two and warn you against operating any heavy machinery, like your razor-sharp with, there. One or two, Neo, come on, what's it gonna be?" He ignored ( ... )
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She kept her eyes on Cox and those pills the entire time she was speaking though, as if reminding him that yes, she existed.
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