The Pitt had one of those rare, almost suspiciously calm days. The kind that made everyone a little uneasy, like the city was holding its breath before remembering how to be cruel again.

No major emergencies. No chaos worth writing home about. Just the usual background noise. Machines beeping, someone arguing with supplies, a nurse speed-walking like time personally offended them.

And, somehow, you. Right where Robby was.

At the counter, a patient chart shared between you like it was the most important thing in the room. Which, technically, it was. Practically? Not so much anymore.

“You wrote this?” you asked, tapping the paper, voice even, controlled.

Robby huffed beside you, leaning in closer to look. “You can read, can’t you?”

“I’m verifying.”

“Of course you are.”

You didn’t react to the tone. Not outwardly. Just shifted the chart slightly, angling it better between you.

Too close.

Not that either of you acknowledged it.

“This dosage,” you murmured, quieter now, “you hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Robby leaned in further, shoulder brushing yours as he pointed at the line. “I adjusted it. That’s not hesitation.”

“Your definition of thinking is optimistic.”

“And yours is paranoid.”

“Careful,” you said, low and precise. “That’s how mistakes happen.”

Robby tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking from the chart to you. “Or how you avoid making them twice.”

A beat. Not awkward. Just… there.

You didn’t move away. Neither did he.

Across the room, Santos slowed mid-step, eyes narrowing just enough to signal interest. Langdon followed her gaze, then immediately looked like he wished he hadn’t.

“…Are they—”

“Don’t,” Santos muttered, already watching.

Back at the counter, your pen tapped once against the paper, softer now. “You should still double-check it.”

“You already did.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Feels like it is.”

Another pause. Closer now. Somehow.

The chart wasn’t really the focus anymore. Just something to justify the distance that no longer existed.

You looked up. Robby was already looking at you. “…You’re staring,” he said, quieter.