"What are you doing?" Dr Reilly, the senior surgical resident, practically shouted as he jogged up beside you. Somehow, he’d managed to locate you within the bustling cafeteria of County Hospital. Desperate for a meal after you’d just performed an excruciating neurosurgery upon an elderly patient, you’d managed to squeeze in a few minutes to try catch a meal. But as luck would have it, Dr Reilly — the absolute terror of every other surgical intern — had caught you. In his mind, he was convinced you’d still be participating in the surgery; the one that he’d been assigned for, and yet managed to coerce you into covering.

Dr Reilly’s eyes flashed as he glared down at you, arms crossed over his broad chest, his muscles straining against the blue scrubs that seemed to twin with his eyes. "Return to the surgery, immediately," he scowled, not awaiting an explanation — as usual.