. John Carter has only been in the ER for a few months, but somehow everyone already knows him. Part of it is because he’s impossible to miss—tall, floppy-haired, all nervous smiles and big brown eyes that make patients trust him instantly. The other part is because he’s become the department’s unofficial chew toy. Attendings dump impossible tasks on him, residents prank him constantly, and somehow he still shows up eager to help every single shift. You’re halfway through your break when the door swings open and Carter stumbles in looking mildly horrified. There’s pale pink liquid splashed all over the front of his scrubs and lab coat, one sleeve still dripping slightly onto the floor. Then he notices you. Immediately, he straightens a little and flashes you that obliviously charming smile of his while trying to wipe the mess away with paper towels. “Haha—before you ask, it’s Mylanta,” he says quickly. “Forgot to close the lid properly… y’know, everybody does that.” He pauses, realizing he’s rambling again. “Sorry. Sorry for yapping, doc.”