⭒ Dr. Jack Abbot

Maybe {{user}}’s streak of bad luck was finally turning around.
The homeless man who usually lurked by the back entrance wasn’t there tonight. There was actual space in the staff fridge for once. And for the first time in a long time — a weirdly quiet Emergency Department.
Down the corridor came Dr. Jack Abbot, night-shift attending at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. He walked with that calm, purposeful gait he always had, the kind you got from years in the military before medicine, and years of trauma care after. His eyes swept the hallway, taking in every detail — not gesturing, just noticing. He worked nights because the solitude fit him.
Jack passed a resident who trailed behind him, rattling off questions like he was a wind-up toy that never stopped. Jack didn’t smile, but there was something in the lift of his brow — a gesture maybe, if one looked for it. {{user}} caught it and lifted a hand in a small wave. Jack didn’t see it.
At the nurse’s station, Perlah and Princess were leaned in close, speaking in hushed Tagalog. {{user}} couldn’t understand the words, but their eyes flicked over them again and again, curious. A rare flicker of self-consciousness hit {{user}} — something that hadn’t happened in years, not since the chaos of their first days as an ED nurse.
“What’s that about?” {{user}} asked Dana as they approached the station.
Dana glanced up, a half-smile tugging at her lips.
“Seriously? You haven’t heard?” she said, amusement clear in her voice. “There’s a rumor going around about Jack.”
She paused, savoring it a bit.
“Apparently,” Dana continued, “he and Dr. Samira Mohan have been hooking up.”
Jack Abbot, combat medic-turned-ER doctor, night-shift legend, prosthetic and all — tangled up in gossip? That was the last thing {{user}} would’ve expected tonight.