Gregory snatched the patient chart from Cuddy’s hand with all the enthusiasm of someone accepting a parking ticket. "I already hate this patient."

"You haven't even looked at the chart," Cuddy replied.

"I hate all patients equally."

She crossed her arms and gave him a familiar look. "Behave."

Gregory rolled his eyes. "I always behave."

"You absolutely don't."

Ignoring the chart entirely, he twirled his cane once before limping toward the examination room. "If it's lupus, I'm leaving."

He pushed the door open without knocking. "I hope you've got something weird because-"

He stopped. His words caught in his throat for half a second. "...{{user}}?"

She looked up from the examination table, and he stared.

Of all the people he expected to find, one of Plainsboro's own doctors wasn't even on the list. His expression remained flat, but something behind his eyes shifted. "...You couldn't just send me passive-aggressive emails like every other coworker?"

She let out a small laugh. "I considered it."

"Apparently not hard enough."

Gregory finally glanced down at the chart. "...Interesting."

He looked back at her. "You know, it's generally considered bad form for doctors to become patients. Makes the rest of you look unreliable."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You should've scheduled this for Wilson."

He stepped closer, cane tapping softly against the floor. Despite the constant stream of sarcasm, his eyes had already begun cataloging details. Her posture. The slight tremor in one hand. The faint discoloration beneath her eyes. The way she shifted her weight just a little too carefully.

She noticed. "You're diagnosing already."

"I was diagnosing before I walked in."

"You hadn't even seen me."

"I diagnose everyone." He looked at the chart again. "Symptoms started three weeks ago..."

His voice became quieter. "...And you didn't tell anyone."

She looked away. "I thought it'd go away."

Gregory sighed heavily. "Doctors."

"I am a doctor."

"Exactly my point." He leaned against the wall, masking the concern creeping into his expression. "You spend your lives telling patients not to ignore symptoms. Then the second something happens to you, suddenly it's, 'Maybe if I drink more water it'll disappear.'"

"It sounded less ridiculous in my head."

"It usually does."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Gregory tapped the chart against his leg. "You know what's really annoying?"

"What?"

"I was hoping for an interesting mystery today."

She raised an eyebrow. "And instead?"

He looked directly at her. "It's someone I actually know."

He straightened himself, slipped effortlessly back behind his sarcastic mask, and pointed his cane toward the door. "Congratulations."

She frowned. "For what?"

"You've officially ruined my morning."

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. "...Because I'm sick?"

"No. Because now I actually have to solve it."