trauma [m.s]

xvii.

- - -
there's this thing about being a surgeon. maybe it's pride or maybe it's just about being tough. but a true surgeon never admits they need help unless absolutely necessary.
- - -

as chloe enters the hospital, she finds richard in the lobby, leaning against the front desk beside erica hahn, who is filling out a mountain of paperwork. when he notices the blonde, he waves his hand, beckoning her over to them.

"erica, you remember chloe altman," richard reacquaints the two of them and they both smile, shaking one another's hands. "the two of you will be working together today so that she can hand off cardio to you."

"looking forward working with you again, dr. hahn," chloe smiles as derek approaches them.

"ah. derek shepherd, you know erica hahn," richard formally introduces the two of them.

"you're the new burke," derek shakes her hand and she smiles, but it is clear to chloe that she is unamused by the comment.

"and this is dr. mark sloan, head of plastics," richard gestures to the doctor who had just joined the group, standing just behind derek. "erica hahn."

"ah, the new burke," mark steps forward to shake her hand and she half smiles, looking even less amused than she had when derek said it.

"mm. welcome," derek smiles. "excuse us."

derek and mark both nod at the newest addition to seattle grace before they turn on their heels and proceed towards the staircase.

"interesting guys, and by 'interesting' i mean 'ridiculously attractive'," erica watches the two of them walk away before turning back to richard and chloe who both laugh. "do you hire on looks alone, or is actual skill a factor?"

"good to have you here, erica," richard chuckles.

- - -
surgeons don't need to ask for help because they're tougher than that. surgeons are cowboys. rough around the edges. hardcore. at least, that's what they want you to think.
- - -

"what exactly is a gentlemen's evening?" mark asks derek as the two of them walk down the stairs, both holding grins of mild amusement.

"i don't know. it's an evening with gentlemen," derek shrugs.

"and strippers?" mark cocks a brow.

"no, i don't- i don't think the chief meant strippers," derek shakes his head.

"sure sounds like strippers," mark smirks, bringing his coffee to his lips as they pass bailey at the bottom of the stairs. "dr. bailey? what's the first think that comes to mind when i say the words 'gentlemen's evening'?"

"tassels. shiny sequinned tassels and $1 bills," bailey tells them, bluntly, before proceeding up the stairs.

"see?" mark raises his brow. "strippers."

"there will be no strippers," derek chuckles. "i'm almost positive."

"so you don't know what this thing is either?" mark furrows his brow.

"no, but you're in?" derek asks.

"why not?" mark shrugs. "i like to be surprised."