Pete is throwing nothing back at her and it is infuriating to Lita. She hands him the clipboard, rolling her eyes so hard at his even tone and stupid eyebrow thing he does. She's pretty sure her eyeballs are looking out of the back of her skull when he finally takes the chart, she's side-eyeing him so hard. He simply takes the clipboard, as placid and serene as could be. Since when is the good doctor so above pettiness that he didn't feel compelled to push back when she needles him? Has he transcended such trivial matters as basic human interaction and banter? Only Pete could annoy her with becoming a better person. Why is he the worst?
"Ugh, take it, you big baby," she says, watching him flip through the paperwork with a critical eye. Even if he wasn't going to argue with her about the charts, Lita could at least glean some satisfaction that he glanced down at his attire to make sure he looked fine. She threw him off his game, if even a little, and Lita considers every yard gained in the fight against Pete a win.
"I mean, if you're looking for a refresher course on some first year medical school stuff like neat charts and dressing to impress, I'd be glad to educate you," Lita says, looking at her fingernails. She knows her administrative work is flawless, sans the tiny coffee blot but that's really Pete's fault anyway. On top of that, her outfits are always on point, as if that was even remotely a question. She could lap Pete in rounds 50 times over, look better doing, all while in heels.
"And if you stop acting like a pod person, I'll throw in a free suture clinic for you, free of charge. Because that's how professional and generous I am."