CASEY:

“It’s just one drink –– What? You too good to be seen with a lowly officer of the law?“

“Correction: too good to be seen with anyone,” she feigns indifference. “Make it two, lay off the small talk, and I’ll consider it.”

HUNT:

Things were still in flashes, slowly coming to again after blacking out on the sidewalk. She’d hit the ground hard holding her hands as best as she could hold them to her chest only remembering the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body and the pain only hoping Phoebe was okay. The heavy fog of sedation was hitting her hard but slowly the woman came to consciousness, propped up by pillows tasting that terrible antiseptic smell in her mouth. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck or I was pinata, I think I was the pinata hit by a truck– ugh” Liana breathed, shaking her head trying blow a piece of hair out of her face, still groggy but awake smiling weakly as she gave up on the damn piece of hair. Only seconds later she started to cry, mainly out of exhaustion throwing her head back against the pillows. “Phoe - is Phoebe okay?”

“If you’re both going to turn the following hours into mania, I’d prefer you to tell me to sleep first and to avoid looking forward to an ample amount of liquor.” As the life of a surgeon would have it, the hours proceeding the event held no room for slumber. Instead, as her exhausted frame stumbled into the back of a cab and listed off the address to her lavish house, her occupation had insisted on dishing out a flurry of messages and a demand for her talents. “Or at least give me things to cut and stitch.” Although the half-truth came with no malice attached, the emotions of the other forced doe eyes to widen and discomfort to veil the brunette momentarily. “Please don’t- just- don’t cry.”

BAUER:

“I’m a vodka girl,” Sienna admitted, though she wasn’t that picky. “Cutting?” she guessed. Sienna adored surgery with her all heart but she didn’t seem to have the obsession with slicing that the other interns possessed.

“I think I’d prefer cyanide over vodka,” the brunette shudders in response. “You’re damn right. As concerning as it sounds, anything with a scalpel is my number one hobby.”

NIXON:

“I almost hope you’re not joking. People appearing out of thin air to carry me around? That’s like a dream come true.”

“Me? Joke? Serious Sally is my middle name.”

TAYLOR:

“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me at all,” answered Jack with a smile. To be honest, he’d known her all of thirty seconds, but she seemed the type to enjoy chaos… and he appreciated that. Lately he’d become completely fascinated by people who were the complete opposite to his late wife. “You haven’t raced me – especially when there’s alcohol involved,” he answered, chuckling.

“At least I made a great first impression,” she muses, a Cheshire-cat grin plastered across her features. “How about this, you win and not only do you get first dibs on the alcohol, but I’ll let you buy me a drink some other time. I win and you still buy me a drink.”

PRESCOTT:

“We’ll never know if we don’t find out for ourselves.” she said, playfully raising her eyebrows at her friend. “I wish I brought a flask for my date though, sounds a lot better than being set up to be a part of this auction.”

“Where should we start?” The question departs from her lips as dark eyes wander throughout the many. “You’re telling me. Knowing my luck, I’ll end up with someone’s great grandfather. Here’s hoping he’s wealthy.”

ROGERS:

“Want to go hang out at the bar then? They’re serving real liquor, not this weak ass shit,” she says motioning over to the bar. “I’ve got a tab running tonight. Just add whatever you want onto my bill.” 

“You know the way to my heart, Cass.” A single slender palm supports itself against her chest as she speaks. “Add whatever?”

BRAEDEN:

“Did you just call me a house hogger?” Maverick rose an eyebrow, “I’ll keep that in mind next time I bring someone home. Better yet, I’ll make sure to use your bed and not change the sheets afterwards.”

“Actually, you completely misheard me. I said mouse-prodder, easy mistake.” Blatant sarcasm riddles itself throughout her words. “Go ahead, try it. No apologies for what I’ll do in return.” 

DUBOIS:

“The strippers are anytime you want. They have them in private rooms off the main room. All you have to do is knock and enter anytime you want. Those shots are going to be useful for most people here.”

“Private rooms? I was kinda hoping for false pizza deliverers to turn up and voila - food and entertainment.”

BAUER:

“I don’t think my therapist would agree that’s a ‘productive use of my talents’. Or something like that he says.” Adam grinned widely and nodded, lifting a hand to the bartender. “Do you think it’s an open bar? If so, all drinks are on me.” 

“Y’know what I’d do, nice eyes? Tell your therapist they’re an idiot. Entertaining me is always productive.” For herself, that was. “If you tell them you’re someone famous, maybe they’ll all be on the house.”

TORRES:

“No, I’m just… pacing myself,” She said, trying to defend her reasoning. “I just know how I can get when I’m drunk,”

“Are you one of those angry drunks, or is it a free the nipple situation?”

GREY:

  “You really think so that slow and steady never wins the race? Well i think it wins maybe some races” he smiled, “but imagine almost everyone drunk before the end of the night”

“I didn’t get where I am taking it slow.” Jamie would never understand the concept of such a thing even if it arrived gift wrapped and begging to be torn open. “You trying to tell me that’s a bad thing?” 

HARRINGTON:

Ally giggled, shrugging. “That sums up my teenage life, although I wasn’t a super slut or something like people thought. The popular girls always get such a bad rep.” She said, smiling. “Oh, yes. Many caviar filled parties with annoying rich people, the usual thing. Oh, really? I would think they’d serve you good food since med school is so expensive.” 

“Hell, I’m all for people living how they choose - popular girl or not.” Although Jamie would never class herself as such, often preferring her own company to that of the many, she only ever encompassed distaste if an individual opted to stand in her way. “Annoying rich people... I’m starting to feel sorry for you. You’d be surprised, I’m pretty positive med school charges you just for breathing in their classrooms.”

BENNETT:

“I was feeling more so like the pirates with scurvy.” He admitted as he stared at his empty glass. “Maybe my next drink should be orange juice and vodka, helps with the scurvy.” Jake sent the woman a playful wink before signalling a waiter. “Can I interest you in anything?”

“Not only did you name a not so awful combination, it sounds like you know more about effective remedies than half of my colleagues do.” Perhaps untrue, but she possessed little interest to their talents compared to that of her own. “Other than an escape? I’ll take whiskey straight.”

GRIMALDI:

“Your, uh, your last year in college, uh… had someone swinging from a chandelier while naked?” The blonde began, furrowing her brows in confusion as she processed what the woman had said. “How did that even go down? I wasn’t aware chandeliers could hold the weight of people on them.” She chuckled. “I don’t think the shots will be served throughout the party. However, the bar is,,, uh, well I’m sure they have some. They usually have everything behind there.” 

“That’s because they can’t,” she responds, her voice low. “Luckily the poor idiot happened to be surrounded by a plethora of med students.” Even if alcohol had coursed throughout their veins within that particular moment. “Sounds like the best place to be then. You comin’?”

I am told that this is the book all medical personnel should read. I hope - whenever you get the chance - that you’ll enjoy it as much as they did. 

                 Happy Valentines, 

                                                Victoria Nixon.