07-07-2025, 07:15 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-07-2025, 07:31 PM by Evie O’Fee.)
The room was still, save for the subtle hum of equipment and the occasional soft rustle of clothing as someone shifted uncomfortably. The door clicked shut behind the new Doctor, a tall, sharp-eyed resident just weeks into his rotation. He stood near the edge of the room, uncertain, one hand resting against his clipboard like it was a shield.
Evie glanced at him. His face was composed, but she could read the tension in his jaw, the faint hesitancy in his posture. He was watching the young man sitting across from them—head in hands, shoulders hunched—not just as a physician, but as a peer. The moment was delicate, and they both knew it.
“Is there anything you need, Doctor?” he asked quietly.
Evie’s eyes lingered on the young man a moment longer before she turned. She softened her voice, careful and deliberate.
“The truth?” she said, folding her arms gently. “I need you here. But I’ll understand if you'd rather step out.”
The Doctor straightened slightly, unsure whether to take that as an invitation or a test.
Evie continued, her tone shifting with subtle authority. “Actually, there is something. But it’s your choice.”
She took a slow breath, measured, almost weary with the weight of leadership.
“We need to get him through this—quietly, and quickly. When he looks back on this, it’s going to sting. He’s embarrassed already. Right now, what happened is confined to this room. That’s a gift. And none of us,” she paused, making eye contact with each person in the room, “are going to talk about it beyond this door.”
The air in the room thickened with mutual understanding.
Evie looked back to the Doctor. “If this same behavior plays out during conference, the consequences will be more severe. There won’t be time to shield him from the fallout. And his embarrassment?” She shook her head gently. “It won’t be private anymore. It’ll be public. Career-altering. Trust-damaging.”
A beat passed.
Everyone wanted the same thing—for him to bounce back, to return to the competent, composed version of himself they all knew. They weren’t protecting ego—they were protecting potential.
Evie’s voice dropped to something more personal, but no less firm. “If you want to stay and be part of this, I welcome that. If not, I suggest you take a breather. Get some air. Regroup.”
Evie watched him, not judging. Just observing. “The best kind of leaders,” she said quietly, “figure out what kind they’re going to be during moments like this. Especially in their junior years. And no one—not me, only you—can make that choice for you. But we can help clear the path.”
She stepped aside, letting the silence speak for a moment. Evie looked up to him now, not invading, but anchoring. “I’m not going to tell you this doesn’t matter,” she said gently. “Because it does. But what matters more is how you recover. That’s what people will remember.”
She looked up at the Doctor, eyes steady. “So,” she said, “what kind of doctor do you want to be?”
The room waited—not for an answer, but for a decision.
==Tag Doctor -Still waiting on GM input==
Evie glanced at him. His face was composed, but she could read the tension in his jaw, the faint hesitancy in his posture. He was watching the young man sitting across from them—head in hands, shoulders hunched—not just as a physician, but as a peer. The moment was delicate, and they both knew it.
“Is there anything you need, Doctor?” he asked quietly.
Evie’s eyes lingered on the young man a moment longer before she turned. She softened her voice, careful and deliberate.
“The truth?” she said, folding her arms gently. “I need you here. But I’ll understand if you'd rather step out.”
The Doctor straightened slightly, unsure whether to take that as an invitation or a test.
Evie continued, her tone shifting with subtle authority. “Actually, there is something. But it’s your choice.”
She took a slow breath, measured, almost weary with the weight of leadership.
“We need to get him through this—quietly, and quickly. When he looks back on this, it’s going to sting. He’s embarrassed already. Right now, what happened is confined to this room. That’s a gift. And none of us,” she paused, making eye contact with each person in the room, “are going to talk about it beyond this door.”
The air in the room thickened with mutual understanding.
Evie looked back to the Doctor. “If this same behavior plays out during conference, the consequences will be more severe. There won’t be time to shield him from the fallout. And his embarrassment?” She shook her head gently. “It won’t be private anymore. It’ll be public. Career-altering. Trust-damaging.”
A beat passed.
Everyone wanted the same thing—for him to bounce back, to return to the competent, composed version of himself they all knew. They weren’t protecting ego—they were protecting potential.
Evie’s voice dropped to something more personal, but no less firm. “If you want to stay and be part of this, I welcome that. If not, I suggest you take a breather. Get some air. Regroup.”
Evie watched him, not judging. Just observing. “The best kind of leaders,” she said quietly, “figure out what kind they’re going to be during moments like this. Especially in their junior years. And no one—not me, only you—can make that choice for you. But we can help clear the path.”
She stepped aside, letting the silence speak for a moment. Evie looked up to him now, not invading, but anchoring. “I’m not going to tell you this doesn’t matter,” she said gently. “Because it does. But what matters more is how you recover. That’s what people will remember.”
She looked up at the Doctor, eyes steady. “So,” she said, “what kind of doctor do you want to be?”
The room waited—not for an answer, but for a decision.
==Tag Doctor -Still waiting on GM input==