Back when there was television, any number of medical dramas would have led a person to believe that beginning one's medical career came with an insane disaster the moment that student walked into a room. Blood would start spurting from someone's throat, the staff would begin shouting, and chaos would ensue in order to give the student a proper idea of what being medical personnel meant.
But this wasn't television, and for that, Rory was always grateful, despite how often she grumbled to herself.
Nobody wanted there to be post-apocalyptic chaos. Rory did long for surgeries from time to time, but not if it meant someone had been shot or bitten or otherwise mangled. She'd had her fair share of that already, thanks. It was one of those mornings where she was simply happy for a bit of calm, only a few people wandering through the area with standard complaints.
The appearance of a dog, and then someone asking for her by name, drew Rory's attention rather effectively, and she arched an eyebrow with a vague sense of curiosity. "This isn't a mob hit, right?" she asked with a chuckle, reaching for the cup of coffee she'd managed to procure.