Anders (crazycatman) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-02-24 14:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, anders, tinkerbell |
Who: Tinkerbell and Anders
When: Monday, Feb 23
Where: Anders’ Free Clinic, then Tink's new house
What: Stitches Removal, checking out the new place
Rating/Warnings: Low/Clinic stuff and Doctory stuff with the removal of stitches from her wing
Status: Complete when posted
It had been a long couple of days since the fly that Tink had shared with Anders. Now that her wings were healed, the stitches were itchy. She wanted them out. Especially after going for a long fly, the darn stitches were becoming more and more of a nuisance. So she headed to the clinic after a meeting with the Old Man’s Lawyer on Monday afternoon, hoping that she wouldn't interrupt anything important.
In her pocket was a smaller zip top bag, with just enough pixie dust for one flight. She was planning on giving it to Anders. Just in case of emergencies, of course. He really shouldn't be flying without her, but if something came up? She trusted he'd use it properly.
After checking in at the front desk, (giving her name and saying she wanted to talk to Dr. Anders for personal reasons. Of course, she didn't want any of this going down in the official paperwork. That could lead to really bad things.) Tink sat in the waiting room and watched the television in the corner, waiting for her name to be called.
Work lately had been putting Anders on edge. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy helping people treat their injuries, or helping them with illness, but there had been far too many injuries lately. People getting mugged and attacked in the street. There were always a few people who came in with injuries like that, but it had definitely been on the rise lately, and it made him pissed. Something had to be done about whoever it was that was attacking people. He couldn’t do it - the last time he had tried to intervene in something like that, it hadn’t ended very well, but he hoped someone would. But of course, the police were probably sitting on their thumbs.
No one came to tell him that Tink was waiting for him, but he went out to the reception area to get his next patient - nurses usually brought them back, but while all the doctors had come in for work, a couple of the nurses had called in sick.
When he saw Tink in the waiting room, his strained “I’m a doctor and should try to look friendly” smile turned into a genuine one. “Ah, yes, Tink, just in time for your appointment,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ll see you now.” He didn’t want to give the impression that someone was jumping up the queue for no good reason, even if that was exactly what was happening.
Tink perked up at the sound of Anders’ voice. It’s not like the television was that interesting, she’d been staring straight through it and her mind was wandering. Where was her mind wandering? Three guesses. His smile was met with one of her own. She climbed up from her seat and walked across the waiting room to follow him back toward the examination rooms. “Thanks,” she said once she was close enough that he could hear her without having to raise her voice. “These stitches are itchy.”
Anders laughed as he led her into the treatment room. “I bet. They really shouldn’t be kept in healed wounds for very long. I’ve got to admit, I’m glad to see you this afternoon.” He went over to the counter, and began to pull out the supplies out that he needed to remove the stitches. “Today has not been a particularly fun work day.”
“I told you I’d be here.” Tink realized this was the same room from her first visit to the clinic. Funny how things came around. She sat down on the table and gave her shoulders a little shake, releasing her wings from her hoodie. (It was one of those thin, slightly tight hoodies, not a big, baggy one. And it paired perfectly with her cargo pants.
“Oh?” She frowned a little, instantly concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Lots of minor injuries from all those muggings taking place,” he said. He washed his hands, and put on his surgical gloves. “It’s enough to get the blood boiling. I don’t understand why people think they can get away with just taking and taking, with no regard for other people.”
He shook his head. He shouldn’t lose his temperature. Not at work, and definitely not in front of Tink. He grabbed the scissors . “Sorry,” he muttered. “These things just make me angry.”
Tink was frowning, listening. She gave him her full attention. When he came a little closer, she lifted a hand to touch his arm. “It’s okay to get angry.” She offered, gently. “I was one of those mugging injuries. The guy that got me was on the lot at the garage. I pretty much made it off easy, though. Some people were hurt far worse than I was.” Tink was tough as nails when it came to this sort of thing.
She lowered her hand from his arm, as if just remembering it was there. “Sorry.” She said.
Anders smiled at her touch. “Oh Tink, you don’t ever have to be sorry to me,” he said. “I really hope someone puts and end to this, and soon.
“Now, if at any point this hurts, let me know. It might be a little uncomfortable at times, but if it hurts, it means I need to loosen the stitches before continuing.” He snipped the end at the end and carefully began to pull the stitches out. He was usually pretty perceptive when the stitches needed loosening before it was painful, but, like when he had first stitched the wings, this was a whole new experience for him.
“I hope so, too.” Tink winced a little when one of the stitches came out, but for the most part she hid her discomfort. It was more a relief than painful to have them finally removed. She watched him over her shoulder while he was working on the wing. There wasn’t even a scar where the knife had sliced her. It was really amazing--the power of sister wings.
“Thank you.” She said, as he was finishing up. “That feels so much better.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling. He grabbed one of the antiseptic wipes, and gently cleaned around where the stitches had been. “I’m always happy to help.”
“Oh! Hey, I brought you this.” Tink pulled the little zip-top bag out of her pocket and held it out to him. It was the same stuff that she’d used the other night when they went out flying. “...Just for emergencies. If you want to fly for fun, find me. But this is… like… y’know. For emergencies.”
Lame, Tink. Lame. She hoped that he wouldn’t question it too much, or over-think it, just like she was doing. And she hoped he wouldn’t find it insulting or something. She trusted him to be safe out there… but it was nice to have a little extra protection, right?
Anders took the bag, a little shocked. He hadn’t expected this. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I don’t know what to say.” He put the bag in the pocket of his lab coat. Before he saw his next patient, he’d go to his rucksack and put it in a pocket, since he carried his rucksack with him nearly everywhere.
“If it’s just for emergencies, I hope I never have to use it.” He glanced at his watch. He had finished with the stitches pretty quickly, and still had time to talk with her a little. He didn’t particularly have much of a desire to go out and deal with more patients right now. “How’s all the will stuff going?” he asked.
“You’re welcome.” Tink gave him a relieved smile, glad he wasn’t freaking out over the gift. “You don’t have to say anything, just… use it if you need to.” She stretched out her wings a bit, then tucked them back inside her hoodie. And noticed Anders checking his watch. Oh. Did he want her to leave? Was he really busy? She didn’t want to be a burden.
“It’s okay. I got the keys this morning,” she said. “But I can go if you’re busy.”
“No, I have a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’d rather spend them with you than with another patient.” He broke into a wide grin. “You got the keys? That’s fantastic! Have you been there yet?”
Tink blushed a little, relieved, when he said he’d rather spend time with her. That helped. She shoved her hands in her pockets, shyly, and shook her head. “I dunno. I mean, no, I haven’t been there yet. I’m sure it’s full of his stuff, and like… I want to make sure I give it the proper respect. You know what I mean?”
Anders nodded. "I understand," he said. Maybe not from experience, but he understood. "It's tough to know what to do in these sorts of situations. I'm sure you'll figure it out though." He smiled at her.
The fact that Anders believed in her made Tink feel special. Bashful, humble, but also honored. Flattered. She went even pinker now, and returned his smile with one of her own. “Thanks. I want to do it right.” Beat. “Do you want to come check out the place with me? When you’re finished here, anyway? I’ve only seen the outside.” She had no idea what she was getting herself into.
The Old Man could have hoarded stacks of ancient newspapers or cats or something.
“Of course I do,” Anders said. “If you want me there, of course. I’ll be done tonight around six, so I could meet you there if you’d like.” Anders would be so excited if the Old Man was hoarding cats. He might actually die of happiness.
He looked at his watch again and frowned. It was probably getting pretty close to when he had to see his next patient. But with the idea that he’d see her later that night made needing to send her off a little more bearable. “I should be getting back to work, but let me know the address later?”
“I’ll text you.” Tink said, growing more and more excited with each passing moment. The poor, little fairy was practically vibrating with excitement. She couldn’t wait for like, 6:30. Since he’d need time to get there and everything. “And I’ll see you there after work?”
“I’ll see you there after work,” Anders confirmed.
------------
Anders managed to get out of work fairly early, and the last part of his day was a lot easier to get through with the prospect of seeing Tink again. When he finished work, he got changed into his street clothes, jumped on his bike, and drove to the address Tink had provided him.
Tink spent the afternoon running errands and making phone calls. She had to hire some mechanics to staff the Garage. She wanted to open it again as soon as possible. And she had just a couple more people skills than the Old Man had.
The house was a large four-bedroom, with two and a half bathrooms. It had a circular driveway, and a stone path leading up through the front yard. The yard itself was overgrown, but the house was in excellent condition. It’d been painted recently, and the roof was only a couple years old.
Tink was sitting on the front porch, fiddling with some wires. It was something she did when she was nervous--and seeing this house for the first time made her nervous. She popped up to her feet when he pulled up and took a few steps down the stone path to meet him. “...it’s really big,” she said, almost apologetically. “There was this huge settlement after his son was killed, and he paid the mortgage off with it.”
Anders was pretty impressed just with seeing the house. If anyone deserved a house like this, it was certainly Tink. "This house is amazing," Anders said, gazing up at it. "You could have like, four cats."
He grinned and went to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Ready to see what awaits you inside?" he asked?
Tink grinned. "I don't know if I could handle four cats..." She could. Probably. Maybe mice. Like Cheese.
"Yeah, I think so. I'm nervous," she admitted. The hand on her shoulder was comforting. It brought a little smile to her lips. "Okay." Deep breath. "Here goes."
Up the walkway and to front door, Tink pulled out her keys. She unlocked the handle, the deadbolt, and pushed the door open. The inside the house was pristine. Perhaps a little dusty, but uncluttered. The livingroom was dead ahead; nice, comfy-looking sofas and a huge tv. A large kitchen and family room were on the right. It looked recently updated. Marble countertops. He had a nice keurig.
Tink stepped in, completely in shock.
Anders let out a low, impressed whistle as he walked into the house. He didn't want to say that she had hit the jackpot because losing someone he assumed she was close to was a pretty hefty price, but usually he had to look a little harder to find a silver lining when bad things happened.
"Wow," he said instead. "This is... Well, wow. Nice."
Tink turned to glance at him, the shock apparent in her slack jaw, the wideness of her eyes. “I’ve never been inside before. I only met him once or twice here to like, pick up and drop off things.” She stepped into the kitchen. There were still dirty dishes in the sink. They’d been there the whole time he was in hospice, unless someone was squatting. The Dining room had a nice, wooden table with six chairs.
Tink came back out a moment later and motioned toward the hallway. “Four bedrooms. He lived alone. I don’t know what we’re going to find in them.”
“Well, hopefully not a lot of weird toys,” Anders said cheerfully, and then realized that might be a really insensitive thing to say. Still, how awkward would that be. “I’m sure that there isn’t anything weird,” he added as an afterthought.
He glanced in the kitchen when he stepped into the house. The dirty dishes were sad in a way he couldn’t quite put into words. “Hey,” he said gently. “How are you doing with all of this right now?” It was better to figure out where she was standing before they went further into the house.
It was actually quite a funny thing to say. But Tink wasn’t really in a funny mood? She was still nervous, and shocked, and sad a bit. Okay, more than a bit. She moved into the hallway and stood there for a moment, hoping that she wasn’t …. disgracing his memory, or something. It was a pain in her chest she couldn’t quite shake.
She turned to him and shrugged her shoulders, not quite meeting his eye. “I’m… okay. I can’t believe… I mean. This is it. This is what’s left. He had a whole life, and now all that’s left is a house full of stuff.”
Anders followed her into the hall, but he frowned when she answered him. He reached out to take her hand in his as a small gesture of comfort. “Don’t feel like you can’t take a break if you need one,” he said. “Just say the word, and we can go sit out on the lawn for a little while.”
Anders had never really done anything like this before. He had had to break the news to several people that their loved ones had passed on the surgical table, but his part in helping them with their grief ended once they walked out of the hospital doors. This was different, and he was a little at a loss for how to proceed.
It was kind and generous that he was even trying. She could have asked Peri or one of her brothers to come along with her today, but she chose Anders. He was both close enough and distant enough that she felt she could handle it with him beside her. He’d already stitched up her wing, he’d seen a side of her she didn’t often show people.
“Thanks,” she said, and gave his hand a little squeeze. She didn’t let it go. “Let’s keep going. I might need some time after, but I want to see the whole house first.” There were four bedrooms. The master was at the end of the hall. They passed one that was obviously still dressed for a teenage boy--or a post-college adult child who came to live at home with his parents. It looked like it hadn’t been touched (besides vacuuming and dusting) in thirty years. Another was an office. This was the only room in the house that was messy so far. Papers stacked all over, bookshelves covered in books and odd knick knacks. Then there was a full bathroom.
“I’m learning so much about him… just by walking through here. Things I should have known about--or should have asked--while he was still alive.”
Anders looked through each room. He felt a little, for lack of a better term, lonely. Not necessarily that he was lonely, but there was definitely an air of loneliness in the house that gave him an air of second-hand loneliness. Maybe it was the room that was clearly set up for someone who was a young man in the 80s. Or the fact that the only room that really looked like it was lived in was the office.
“People don’t really like to think about death,” Anders said, “so a lot of us don’t go out of the way to talk about subjects that might be painful just in the interest of learning things. Don’t feel guilty about not asking those kinds of things. If he had wanted to talk about it, he would have brought it up.”
“He didn’t bring up personal stuff much,” Tink responded. She was still holding Anders’ hand, and wasn’t about to let go. Unless he was. She wouldn’t force it.
The next room was a guest bedroom. It looked untouched for years, though it had the air of being designed by a woman. Flowery curtains on the window and a painting of ballet dancers on the wall. Finally was the master bedroom. It was spacious. There was a king-sized bed, a dresser, and an elliptical machine (covered in dust). The bed was unmade on one side. The master bath was meticulously clean. It housed a large bathtub with jets that looked to be brand new.
Tink let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She moved across the room to the sliding glass door that led into the backyard. It, like the front, was overgrown. But there were promising fruit trees amongst the overgrown grass and bushes.
“I think I want to live in this house.” She’d toyed with the idea of cleaning it out and renting it for additional income, but now that she was seeing it first hand, she liked it. And she figured that someone should remember the Old Man.
Anders had no intention of letting go of Tink’s hand. He felt a little guilty about it - he had the suspicion that she had a little bit of a crush on him, but he had no intention of letting things progress further than friendship. Still, he enjoyed the small bits of contact the two of them made. It made him feel warm inside.
He let out another low, impressed whistle when he saw the bathtub. Just briefly he pictured taking a bath with Tink (not necessarily doing anything risque, just enjoying a nice bath together as a couple, though if his imagination took a different turn he certainly wouldn’t be opposed), but he quickly suppressed the idea.
“I’m glad,” he said, once they had gotten to the backyard. “It’s a beautiful home.” He gave her hand a bit of a squeeze. “If you need any help, I’m pretty good at yard work.” When he had owned a home in Germany, he took care of most of the yard work. He had even grown a little garden so he could grow his own vegetables.
His suspicions were spot-on. Tink was harboring a bit of a crush. Her world was so different today than it’d been six weeks ago, so she was likely latching on and focusing on something happy, displacing her strange feelings. She wasn’t thinking too hard on it. Though, he wasn’t the only one letting a fantasy of a shared bath run through his head.
Tink opened the sliding glass door and moved through it onto the patio. It didn’t need much work, either. It was freshly stained. There was a couple of chez lounges there who’d probably been sitting out in the rain for a few seasons, but the cushions could easily be replaced.
“That’s good, because I’m so not a garden fairy.” Tink responded. Being outside in the sunshine helped lighten the brevity of the situation. “I’ll definitely take you up on that. And the help moving, too. I’m going to have to pack my own stuff, and all of his things that I want to put into the estate sale. God, it’s gonna be so much work.”
Anders gave her hand a squeeze. “Well, I’m happy to help you in any way you want me to. Moving and yard work, obviously, and anything else you need. And I’m sure you have other friends who would be happy to help, too.”
"You're so kind," Tink said, turning to him. She looked up into his eyes for a moment, their hands swinging gently between them. "I don't know... I mean, I'm lucky to have found someone so generous with his time." ...awkward, Tink. Way awkward.
Anders laughed. “Well, it’s not like I have anything else to do, other than work, and I think that the staff at the clinic have caught on to the fact that I put too much time there. They actually kicked me out this weekend, you know. Insisted I take a few days off.” Which was probably fair. Anders had been working 75 - 85 hour work weeks for the last year, only taking time off when he was sick, which hadn’t happened in the last six months. “It’s probably good for me to get out and spend some time with people whose company I enjoy. If anything, I should say that I’m lucky for finding someone who takes my mind off of work.”
“Well, hey,” Tink perked up a bit. “If you ever need someone to take your mind off of work, I’m your girl.” She turned to lead the way back into the house, her fingers loosening their grip just slightly. “Let’s go clean out the fridge.” They could probably get a little work done before they left today. Nothing too strenuous.
Anders wasn’t sure if her loosening her grip meant that she wanted to let go of his hand or not, but really, it was probably better if he did let go, so that’s what he reluctantly did. He followed her into the house. “Hopefully he has the same dining habits as me,” Anders said. Anders’ fridge currently contained a jug of milk, a bit of probiotic goat cream for Sir Pounce-A-Lot, a raw meat patty for Sir Pounce-A-Lot, a carton of eggs, and a loaf of bread.
"Living the bachelor's dream, are you?" Tink teased to take her mind off how cold her hand felt now that his wasn't in it anymore. She closed the sliding glass door behind them and shoved her hands in her pockets. "My fridge is pretty abysmal, too. I've got ketchup. And carrots. And coffee creamer," she added, both sheepishly and hopefully.
Anders laughed. “Hurrah for bachelorhood,” he said, offering her a high-five. “It seems as though we’re both quite proficient at it.” Hopefully the Old Man was too. Anders began to walk toward the kitchen.
"Wouldn't mine be bachelorettehood?" Tink asked, moving with him through the house. She'd just joked. Getting back the normal Tink. It was kinda nice. Things were looking up again. She was going be respectful, to honor the Old Man's memory, but also live her own life. It was exciting.
"Maybe I'll have to start keeping more than just condiments in stock."
Anders laughed. “I suppose, but bachelorettehood doesn’t roll off the tongue nearly as nice as bachelorhood.” Anders was glad to hear her joke. He was glad that he could be here with her in this difficult time. He knew they didn’t know each other particularly well, but he was glad she was trusting him with helping her with this.
“Oh, but condiments are great food. You haven’t lived until you’re eating maple syrup and whipped cream straight out of the bottle because you’re out of other food.” There was a pause. “Actually, don’t do that. That was a terrible mistake on my part.” It may have been twelve years ago, but Anders didn’t think he would ever forget that stomach ache.
“Well, that’s a good point.” Tink may have been a little too trusting. It was something that Neal called her out on before. Was she being too trusting again? She was a girl with a crush, and by definition, they were some of the stupidest creatures on the planet. Hopefully she’d been right in her character judgement of Anders.
“...that sounds like the best meal ever, actually.” Tink said, beaming. They reached the kitchen, and she moved straight to the sink to start washing dishes and filling the dishwasher. DISHWASHER. Tink wanted one of them so badly--and not just so she could improve upon it. That may have been one of the reasons she ate so badly. She hated washing dishes.
“Oh, it was delicious,” Anders agreed. “But the aftermath was not pretty.”
He almost asked Tink where the garbage bags were, and then realized that she probably had about as much of an idea about it as he did. Figuring that most people probably kept them under the sink, that’s where he looked, and he pulled one out from it.
Then, he stood in front of the fridge. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst, and then opened it. Really, it wasn’t so bad. Some moldy bread that went into the garbage bag, potatoes that still looked okay, sausages that followed their yeasty brethren to their plasticy grave. There were a couple of other things that were past their expiry date that he added, but none of them were especially smelly, which was good. “Thank God for bachelors,” Anders said more to himself as he tossed a half-empty carton of eggs into the bag.
That was kind of a nasty thought. Probably didn’t taste as good coming up as it did going down. But Tink didn’t linger on it. She stepped aside when he dug under the sink, frowning curoiusly, but then comprehended when he came out with a trash bag. She set back to the dishes, humming softly to herself. It was Everything is Awesome from the Lego Movie. But low, practically under her breath.
“Hmm?” She asked, turning to him after she put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. There was soap under the sink. She soaped it up and turned it on.
“Nothing,” Anders said. “Just talking to myself. Remarking how lucky it was that he evidently wasn’t that into fruits and vegetables.”
He threw the last of the rotten food into the garbage bag, and turned to Tink. “Hand me that wash cloth you were just using.” The fridge wasn’t really all that dirty, but there was never any harm in giving all the shelves a quick rub down.
“Here.” Tink handed it over. “That is lucky,” she added, turning around to lean back against the sink. “It’s pretty lucky … well, everything is. I mean, this kitchen looks brand spanking new. That’s one of those amazing, new Keurigs. I can’t wait to take it apart. And these countertops look like they were installed six months ago.”
She stepped forward to start poking through the cabinets, finding dried goods and baking goods; pasta, rice, flour, sugar, cooking spices. Another cabinet had oils and vinegars, soy sauce, that kind of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary. She took a deep breath as she closed the cabinet door. “It feels like I’m intruding.”
Anders got on his knees and leaned into the fridge to begin cleaning the shelves with the cloth. “Have lots of ideas on how to improve it already?” he asked her. It would definitely be interesting to see what she did with it if her nifty microwave was anything to go by.
When she mentioned she felt like she was intruding, Anders finished wiping down the last of the shelf and then sat back on his feet, taking a moment to formulate a response. “I can see how you shouldn’t,” he said after a moment. “He obviously wanted you here. Would probably be glad to have you going through his cupboards.”
"I guess it's better me than some stranger," Tink said, thoughtfully. She turned to look at him on the floor of the kitchen. It was nice having him there. She was suddenly very aware of how comfortable it felt to have him in her new home. How much she trusted him already. While watching him, she completely lost her train thought.
She still seemed a little distracted. Anders shot her a smile from the floor, before he got to his feet. “That’s the spirit,” he said. “Are you still doing okay?” He wondered if he was being a bit of a mother hen.
“Yeah,” Tink responded shyly. She came to a bit, eyes focusing again on his face. He may have been mother henning her, but she didn’t mind at all. Actually, she was pleased. Someone other than her brothers and sister watching out for her. It felt nice. She felt special.
“It’s gonna take a while to come to grips with everything, but… I think I’m good. Now I just have to pack up my old place. Or… I don’t know. Strip this place first. Maybe I should start packing up this place first.”
Anders nodded. "I think packing up this place first would probably be the better idea," he said, "so that you actually have a place to put your things once you pack up your stuff." He couldn’t imagine how hard it would probably be deciding what things had to go and which things stayed.
"I'll go buy some boxes." Tink said, running to look around the place once more--as if appraising it. "I may have focus on the Garage a bit first. I want to get it up and running again. I need my paychecks." She could only live so long on savings and credit. "It's all so surreal, you know?"
"I can imagine," Anders said. He reached for her hand again. "Wherever you put your focus, I'm sure it will end up great, Tink. The Garage is lucky to have you at the helm." He smirked a little. "Even if you're not planning on giving doctors free stereos. Which I still think is a great idea, by the way."
Tink took hold of his hand, and inwardly scolded herself for a couple of reasons. One, it shouldn’t be such a comfort to have his warm hand inside hers. And two, her heart shouldn’t skip the way it did when she felt his skin against her own. But she took a half step closer to him and smirked softly. “...well, I can think of one handsome doctor who’s earned a free stereo.” Flirting. Tink was not very good at it.
She took his hand and stepped closer to him. Oh no. He resisted the very strong urge to cup her face in his hand and kiss her. "Oh really?" he asked, smiling at her instead. He was pretty good at not showing exactly how flustered he was at this moment. "Well, I've always wanted a beautiful mechanic to do some work on my car." Oh no. Anders, what are you saying? He really has to work on his impulse control.
“That can definitely be arranged.” Tink said softly, still smirking. “I know a handful of beautiful mechanics who would be more than willing to do some work on your car.” Self-depreciating humor might not be the best way to flirt, but she was trying. Points for effort?
Anders had to chuckle at her joke. "Well, there's only one I want."
And with that, it was probably time he took his leave. Flirting with a woman, no matter how beautiful, and smart she may be, in the house of her dead boss felt wrong, which piled on top of the wrongness he already felt flirting with someone innocent and kind like Tink was. He let go of her hand and gave her a small smile. "Did you still need my help here today?"
Tink's cheeks flushed a bright pink. Really bright. When Tink blushed she blushed. It was mostly when she got mad, but when handsome doctors flirted with her like this? She was lost. Totally smitten.
"Nah, I think I'm done for today. I'll probably back every night this week after work to pack, though." She turned to walk with him to door. "Thanks for coming with me." She wasn't sure she could have done it without him.
Yep. She was still adorable when she blushed. “Well, if you need any help throwing things into boxes, I’m your man,” he said. “I actually might have some extra boxes at the clinic if you wanted to come by sometime this week to pick them up.” He smiled at her. “And you’re welcome.”