InsaneJournal

The ‘wonderful’ thing about being a trainee was that there was no set schedule. Orla’s hours depended on what shift needed help the most and what times some real healer could be arsed to train her. As her result, he weeks would often end up in a horrid hodgepodge of unevenly stitched together hours, working afternoons one day, over night the next, the red eye shift the day after that. It was no way to set up a decent sleep schedule, even if you weren’t an insomniac.

This was one of those weeks. She’d pulled the night shirt yesterday, only to have it followed up by coming in at noon today. She hadn’t bothered sleeping, or even leaving St. Mungos. Instead she’d simply taken a shower, read in the break room to clear her mind, and now sat in the Tea Room, desperately downing several cups of that sweet, life giving, caffeinated liquid known as tea before starting her shift. She normally avoided crowds, but for this delightful beverage she would always make an exception.

Orla blew on the steam from her fourth cup, murmuring happy little sweet nothings to the liquid before taking her first sip.