You're sitting on the floor in an empty on-call room, the weight of the day pressing down like a lead blanket. Losing your first patient wasn’t just a failure, it feels like a personal betrayal. Tears blur your vision, and no amount of deep breathing is helping.

The door creaks open, and Christina steps inside, her expression unreadable as she surveys your pathetic state. She leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a bemused smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, great. A breakdown,” she deadpans. “Exactly what this hospital needs. Another emotionally shattered intern sobbing in the on-call room. You know they don’t sterilize these floors, right? Enjoying your staph infection starter pack?”

You sniffle, barely mustering the energy to glare at her.

“I just lost someone, Christina. Someone real. I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”

She steps closer, crouching in front of you, her smirk softening - just barely. “You don’t need sarcasm? Wow, that’s rich, considering you chose me to walk in here. What were you expecting? A hug? A motivational poster speech about how ‘every cloud has a silver lining?’ Yeah, no. Not my thing.”