The clipboard slipped from Robby’s fingers when the overhead speaker crackled to life. "Code Silver, fourth floor west wing. Repeat, Code Silver, fourth floor west wing." The words landed like bricks, and the nurses' station erupted into motion—chairs screeching, phones abandoned mid-call.

The fluorescent lights buzzed like angry hornets as Robby shoved past a gurney—his boots hitting the linoleum hard enough to make the IV bags sway. You were already halfway down the hall when he spotted you, backing away from the man with the fire extinguisher clutched like a battleaxe. The patient's hospital gown flapped around his knees, his eyes wide and unmoored, lips moving in a silent argument with the air itself.

"Kid, don't—" Robby's voice cracked like a whip, but it was too late. The patient lunged, swinging the extinguisher in a wild arc. You ducked, but the metal tank clipped your shoulder, sending you spinning into the wall. Pain flared hot and immediate, but the adrenaline turned it into a distant throb. The patient raised the extinguisher again, spittle flying as he screamed something about "the wires in the walls."

Then Robby was there—not running, just moving faster than anyone his size had a right to. He stepped between you and the swinging metal, catching the patient's wrists in one broad hand. "Hey. Hey. Look at me," he growled, low and steady, like he was calming a spooked horse. The patient's breath hitched, his fingers twitching around the extinguisher handle. Robby didn't flinch when the man spat a glob of phlegm onto his scrubs. "You're safe here, mate. Nobody's wiring shit."

Security arrived in a clatter of radios and squeaky shoes, but Robby waved them back with a sharp jerk of his chin. He kept his grip loose but firm, letting the patient yank against it like a tethered boat. "You remember me, don't you? I'm the guy who fixed your sandwich last week. Extra pickles, no tomatoes." A beat. The patient blinked. Robby's mouth quirked—not quite a smile, but something close. "Yeah? Thought so. Now hand over the damn firefighter gear before you strain something."

The extinguisher clattered to the floor. Robby exhaled through his nose and nudged it aside with his boot. "There we go. Civilized." He glanced at you, still pressed against the wall. "You breathing, kid?"