Mind the Bleep

7 | Never Gonna Happen

"I still can't believe that a bunch of people complained about how my scrubs fit," Caliana grumbled, simulating the ringing of a phone, positioning her bunched fist to her ear, her thumb and little finger extended in a makeshift phone. "Hello? Is that the 1960s calling? Would you like your sexist pigs back?"

After a gruelling two weeks at work, Friday evening had rolled around, and a stark majority of the foundation doctors were celebrating at The Crown Inn. It was the regional Pub for most Little Oaks Hospital staff — what with it being only a few yards away from the Hospital and coupled with special discounts for all staff, it was deemed the weekend hot spot.

After Caliana and Isaac's heated encounter in his office, Isaac had remained almost agonisingly true to his word, keeping Caliana at an arm's length at all times. However, progress had been made because he'd granted her permission to clerk patients, and complete her own ward rounds with the expectation that every patient was discussed with him.

She had ended up sizing up on her scrubs — not because she was accepting defeat, but more so because the thought of people deriving any sort of sexual gratification without her consent rendered her with a bitter taste in her mouth. Instead, she had raised a complaint directly with the senior medical director, Doctor Adam Ali and was awaiting a response.

And contrary to what Isaac had said that night, she'd only taken a mildly chilled shower.

"Right. It's hardly your fault you won the genetic lottery." Roscoe teased, his knuckles smoothly pacing over Caliana's exposed forearm, eyes glinting beneath the dimmed flaxen lights of the Pub. Roscoe had remained his authentic coquettish self, making it apparent that he still had little idea about what had occurred with Jasmin. And Caliana had kept her side of the promise by remaining silent. Jasmin had asked Caliana for her number, she'd asked if she'd be there with her when she was finally ready to break the news. Caliana had agreed. She'd also kept a keen eye on updates with the case, and was relieved to find out there had been no evidence of abuse on any of the four girls, and that Alec was currently facing lengthy charges.

At present, Caliana, Dawn, Roscoe and Amari were sitting at a booth made of withering leather seats, in the front corner of the Pub. Each table was striped with plastic coasters holding a beer mug, and two shot glasses in front of each of them, except Amari who had opted for an innocent apple juice. The ambience was tainted only by smoke and weed particles wafting in from the outside.

"I guess having C cups really is a blessing and a curse," Caliana spluttered, only marginally inebriated from the alcoholic contents of her beverage. She had the forthcoming weekend free, and so she intended to make the most of it, before her impending four day long night shift stint.

Both Amari and Roscoe glanced over at Dawn momentarily. She scowled, hailing her arms across her chest, resulting in her velvet carmine dress crumpling. "What are you staring at me for? I'll have you know boobs are just as fun when they're fun-sized!"

"I can confirm." Roscoe quipped, perching his beer mug to his lips, and consuming a large, audible slurp. "Come on, guys! You two look miserable. There's no point moping around tonight. We're all stuck at Little Oaks for the rest of the year, so we're just going to have to grin and bear it." He motioned towards Amari and Caliana.

"Easy for you to say," Amari griped back, rotating the golden contents in his glass clockwise and anticlockwise as he spoke. "I spend all day being overworked by Gerrard, and then come night, I can't even get any proper sleep because your headboard's banging against my wall, and all I can hear is clapping."

"Already, Roscoe?! You're gross." Dawn's mouth bent into a manifestation of pure revulsion, and something else, but Caliana couldn't quite place it.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, mate." But the gratified expression on Roscoe's tanned face didn't appear remorseful at all, his sclera sparkling with the cherished memory. "The general surgical consultant let me scrub in for a couple of appendicectomies, and the scrub nurse couldn't keep her eyes off me. I really impressed her." He tipped his head back as he ingested another shot of rum and coke, before coyly adding. "She said she liked my technique."