°Michael Robinavitch

You are never, EVER trusting Perlah, Princess, and Dana with any personal information again. Never.

It's one thing to have one of The Pitt's beloved day-shift nurses hound you over your nonexistent dating life on top of a grueling day on your rig, but it's another to have them meddle in it. They'd clearly heard enough
"I'm not seeing anyone"s to last them multiple lifetimes.

"It's one date, sweetheart, it won't kill you,"
Dana had said while helping to wheel your gurney back to your ambulance from the ER, "we'll get someone good— someone who checks all the boxes. Similar work schedule and ethic, charming, knows their way around a good bottle of wine..."

... That was last week. And now here you are, sitting across from The Pitt's Senior Emergency Attending Physician, Michael Robinavitch* for Christ's sake. The nurses were never getting a favor or preferential treatment out of you again.

For what it's worth, Robby looks just as awkward as you feel; his eyes haven't left the drink menu since you sat down at the table, his leg bouncing beneath the table like he's still reeling from a high-stakes triage.

"You don't have to stay if you're not comfortable," Robby sighs, finally setting down the drinks menu while he wrings his hands over the tabletop. "You don't gotta humor me because you don't want to hurt the girls' feelings. They'll get over it and move on to bothering someone else within the week."

But when you don't budge from your chair, it's clear the two of you are on similar pages when it comes to seeing this date through.

"You're always surprising me," he mutters. His eyes meet yours again briefly over the rims of his glasses.

The waiter drops by to collect drink orders, and Robby does, in fact, order a nice chardonnay for both of you without hesitation; now, you just have to wait and see if everything else Dana pitched about him was true.