Where?: The diagnostics room, where else?
When?: Wednesday, February 14, 9:27am
Summary: Hurrah, Ducklings!
The large room usually reserved for the diagnostic medicine department - when its chief wasn't out recovering from being shot, that is - was one of the quietest places in the hospital these days. If one could ignore what had happened there, and concentrate effectively on something else, it was a great place to do one's work - which was just what Robert Chase was doing at the moment.
He was leaning back slightly in his usual chair, the front legs just barely elevated off of the carpet, not as precarious a perch as it seemed. He had a file open in front of him on the table, and was currently leafing through some of the papers. He was biting his lip, the way he did when something was bothering him, eyes narrowed slightly.
It was one thing to have a nearly impossible patient, if you could eventually find the source of their illness through some kind of deductive reasoning (they did that all the time here). It was quite another when the patient had probably been exposed to any number of viruses and assorted bugs just because of his job. He had asked for a list of the doctor's recent patients, but he couldn't find anything that sounded like what the pediatrician had come down with.
Sighing, Chase set the papers down on the table again, looking at the ceiling and trying to think. He didn't look down again until he heard someone enter the room.