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Post by Benjamin Scott on Nov 29, 2008 22:55:16 GMT -5
Ben didn't necessarily hate his job, he just despised his coworkers. Never in his life had he come into contact with such incompetent buffoons. How hard was it to perform hourly bed checks? Not very, not if you had an ounce of common sense. God how he hated interns. Half of him wanted to resign, grab Chris, and spend the next six months vacationing in Aruba. No, he couldn't do that. They'd be bored after two weeks and run back to London to beg for their jobs back. Besides, he couldn't just abandon their experiments, not after they put in all those extra hours to get to where they were now. Both of their floors had been receiving tons of new admissions over the past few months which needless to say, left them with little free time. As a result, the experimenting was put on hold, but only temporary of course. They had big plans for the future and weren't about to give up just yet. All that work and no play, however, left Ben on the brink of becoming a new admission himself. He needed a break, badly. All he required was a week or two, enough time to clear his mind and regain his sanity. Fresh air was always good for that sort of thing, which is why he was perched on a park bench reading the sports section of the prophet. Reading about grown men knocking balls around with sticks always cheered him up.
((Reserved by pm..))
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Post by Christopher Bennet on Nov 29, 2008 23:16:41 GMT -5
Little did Ben realize, that not thirty feet away, leaning against a tree and eating an apple, stood one of the people he was just thinking of. Chris chewed slowly and watched his friend for a few before discarding the apple and moving in a little closer. Poor sod was obsessed with work. Even on his day off, it occuppied his thoughts and his obsessing prevented him from enjoying one of the few clear days before winter began to rear its ugly, pneumonia and magical flu inducing head. He sighed and watched for a moment more, convinced he could practically see each thought as it came to Ben. His impatience with their coworkers, the disgust with the slow progress of their independent research, the lot of it. Unlike Ben, he had no illusions about what they were doing. He had no love for his work, his patients, or just about anyone else. He hated healing, and was only in it for the access to the hospital and its equipment. And funds. The medical world, magical or otherwise, was fairly cold to those without a small fortune to spare, and jealously guarded grants made available only to those who were already wealthy, had connections, or had showed a great deal of progress in whatever path they were pursuing. Which pretty much negated an actual need for said grants. Which also didn't apply to either of them anyway, as they had no funds, connections, or progress-which was the most disappointing of the three. He stuck his hands in his pockets and strode over to the bench, head bowed, lost in his own thoughts. He knew he didn't like the way some of his life was going, but work aside, the rest was going well. He was respected at the hospital, even if he did not feel that way towards the other staff members. He had a private life, not very social, but that was more by choice than circumstance. He didn't need much. Just a space to call his own, his privacy, and the rather unlikely friendship he shared with Ben. He didn't ask for much and as a result was mostly glad with what he got. He had a certain quiet satisfaction that came from not giving a shit what other people thought of him, and doing well at a job that didn't really matter to him one way or the other so that it never stressed him. Not the way it did Ben. He sighed and slid onto the bench next to his friend, and offered a wry grin. "I'd give you a sickle for your thoughts, but with inflation these days..."
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