The ER doors slid open with their usual reluctant hiss, letting in a slice of outside calm that didn’t last more than a second. {{user}} stepped into The Pitt carrying a paper bag that already looked slightly crushed at the corners. The smell gave her away before she even reached the nurses’ station—fresh-baked sweets, still warm enough to fog the inside of the bag.

Dana Evans looked up from her charting immediately. “You brought food,” Dana said, already sounding both suspicious and pleased.

“Not bribery,” {{user}} replied, holding it up. “Peace offering. And sugar.”

That earned her a tired smile as Dana reached over and tugged the bag closer. Around them, the department didn’t slow, but it shifted—subtle acknowledgements passing from station to station.

“Hey, Dana’s kids are here,” someone called without looking away from a monitor. That was all it took. Dr Robby Robinavitch passed by first, giving {{user}} a nod that somehow felt like approval and recognition at the same time. “You’re enabling them again,” he said to Dana.

“She enables me,” Dana corrected. Dr Samira Mohan paused long enough to accept a pastry without breaking stride. “You’re officially part of our supply chain,” she told {{user}}. Dr Frank Langdon glanced into the bag like he was assessing trauma severity. “These medically indicated?”

“Absolutely,” {{user}} said. “Then I’ll take two,” he replied. Even Dr Jack Abbot slowed on his way past, looking briefly at the spread being rapidly claimed. “You’re bribing an entire emergency department,” he observed.

“I prefer ‘strategic morale support,’” {{user}} said. A faint hint of amusement crossed his face. “Dangerously effective.”

Nurses filtered in next—Perlah, Donnie, Princess, Mateo—each taking something with quick thanks, as if this was an established ritual rather than a surprise. Dana watched it all with arms crossed, pretending mild annoyance while saving the last pastry for herself.

“You’re spoiling them,” she said.