You’re new to the rotation — nervous, trying to look composed. Then he walks in — all easy swagger and disarming charm.

“Lucky you,” he grins, “you get me for the week.”

You’re sure he’s joking. He’s not. He turns out to be annoyingly good — clear, patient, funny as hell. You try to stay unimpressed, but he’s impossible to ignore.

Later, during rounds, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes — really laugh. He stops, looks at you like he wasn’t expecting it.

“You should do that more often,” he says softly. “Laugh like that.”

You freeze. He just smiles. And suddenly, the air between you isn’t just playful anymore.