Coming Home WHOAnya Kaminsky OT Eric Payne WHAT Anya's reunited with another of her errant "kids" WHERE Havenwood General Hospital WHEN May 18, 2017; 7:30 AM
The past few days had been something of a blur for Anya. Between keeping her scheduled shifts at the hospital and keeping Ben alive and as pain-free as possible as he recovered from whatever ordeal had brought him to Zee's door, she hadn't been sleeping much. Luckily she'd pulled enough doubles and even triples in her time to be used to surviving on coffee and power naps for a few days.
She shuffled in, stifling a yawn as she drained the last of the coffee she'd made before leaving the house as she put her things away in her locker. Then she made a beeline for the coffee maker at the nurse's station. A few of the newer nurses were standing nearby, gossipping and twittering softly among themselves. Anya just rolled her eyes with a sigh and refilled her cup, before walking a couple of steps over to Nadine, one of the other veteran nurses.
"What is this time?" Anya asked, looking back at the younger nurses. "Pretty new patient? Or does Paul have a new boyfriend again?"
"Neither, but I'm sure Paul's hoping things go his way," Nadine chuckled, shaking her head before she nodded in the direction of a small clump of doctors several feet away. "Look who decided to come back."
Anya followed Nadine's gaze and almost hurled her cup across the room at the sight. His back was turned and his scent obscured by the persistent bleached out antiseptic smell of the hospital, but she knew immediately who it was. She stalked forward, the doctors around him slowly slinking away - far enough to be out of range, but not so far as to miss what they knew was about to happen.
"Lord, help that poor boy," Nadine muttered under breath, turning back to her paperwork while keeping one eye on Anya.
For her part, Anya kept her cool. She simply stood behind Eric with her arms folded squarely across her chest and a very disapproving look in her eye as she cleared her throat. Loudly.
Unfortunately for Paul, one of the very individuals Eric was talking to, the werewolf did not bat for the other team. But, that hadn't deterred the other doctor from flirting with Eric. Considering how his last relationship ended and his date with the cute girl from the tavern didn't quite pan out as expected, he'd be a tad foolish not to be a little flattered by the attention.
Conversation, however, progressed to more serious topics as he relayed some of the experiences he had overseas and some of the techniques he employed while some of the other doctors got Eric caught up on situations all over the hospitals. At least until he noticed some of the other doctors peeling away from their small group one by one with wary expressions on their face that finally, he looked at Paul who had a rather anxious look on his face.
Pulling at one lapel of his lab coat, Eric took a whiff of himself, "What? Do I smell or something? Why is everyone suddenly acting like I have Ebol— …Oh." Anya's scent finally hit him as she stopped behind him, her movements bringing the subtle shift in air direction. There was a second where time seemed to freeze with him standing there like an idiot with his lab coat open—he could practically feel the disapproval at his back—and his brain rapidly fired off ways he could react.
Straightening his lab coat as he turned to face her, a nervous chuckle spilled from his mouth, "Anya! Heeey." He fidgeted with his tie, his eyes darting quickly around his surroundings before meeting her gaze, "... I'm back?" Eric flashed her a nervous smile before his expression turned almost deadly serious because Anya Kaminsky had the uncanny knack of keeping you on your toes.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than her hand flew up to smack him on the side of his head.
"I can see this!" she said sharply, resisting the urge to grab him by the ear. He may have had a good many inches on her in height, but that didn't intimidate her in the least.
"Maybe you were going to tell me, and it slipped your mind because of jet lag," she continued, starting to pace. "Or maybe you were trying to surprise me, because sometimes you are sweetheart, but I don't think this time you are."
She stopped pacing, pointing her finger sharply in his face. "How long have you been home? A day? A week? A month? If you had told me, I would have made pavlova, but now there is nothing for you. Nothing."
Her rant over, she smoothed out her scrubs, a warm smile spreading across her face. She opened her arms wide and pulled in him to a big hug, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek.
"I'm glad you're back from wherever you were playing martyr," she told him happily. "But next time, you tell me when you are back so I can cook for you, Это понятно?"