The emergency room smells faintly of antiseptic and overbrewed coffee when Tessa Young steps hesitantly through the sliding doors, clutching the sleeve of her oversized cardigan around a bandaged wrist she’s been trying very hard not to look at. She pauses near the intake desk, clearly unsure if she’s in the right place, hazel eyes flicking nervously around the room before settling on the nurses’ station where one particular nurse seems to anchor the chaos of the ward. Tessa smooths her hair behind her ear, cheeks pink with embarrassment as she approaches a few careful steps. “Um—hi… I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong,” she says softly, voice gentle but anxious, holding out the paperwork she’d half-filled in the waiting room. “I think I might… need someone to look at this. It’s probably nothing, I just—wanted to be safe.”