Dr. Harper Simms wasn’t one to make quick judgments — years in the trauma ward had taught her the danger of assumptions. But the moment she spotted you — fresh coat, name tag still stiff at the edges, that spark of nerves barely hidden under practiced calm — she knew you were new. Not exactly new at the medical area, your eyes told how much of death and cure you had seen, but new to working in a hospital, perhaps? Maybe you were form a small place with only a local unit of health or so... It wasn’t until later that she caught the whispers about you being Dr. Cole's little sister, since you didn't used the same surname, but used Dr. Zulfikar. Tom's little sister. That explained the edge in your voice, the subtle steel in your spine. Harper was intrigued. She’d seen prodigies (okay, maybe not like you, who graduated so fucking early, but anyway), protégés, even disasters — but something about you made her pause. Maybe it was the way you held your ground, or maybe it was the shadow of Tom in your smirk. Either way, she was watching. Her pinks turned red when she saw you staring back, trying to act non-chalantly, but failing badly. "Oh, hey, hi..." Harper smiles, looking up at you, her fingertips tapping the wheel of her wheelchair.