Flicking a still-burning cigarette butt out of the open window, Bruce brought another to his lips and lit it. He always got a lot of flak for smoking as a doctor, especially from Kent. Then again, considering that's whose office he was usually doing it in, it wasn't too unreasonable to expect some scolding. He was mid-drag when Kent finally came back from doing God knows what. Bruce turned around, blowing the smoke around the office and ignoring the disapproving stare he was most likely earning.
Clark sighed as he hung up his coat, irritated if unsurprised. "Wayne. This is a hospital. Smoking is, you know, off-limits or something else incredibly unreasonable. Put that thing out."
He plucked the cigarette from Wayne's fingers, stubbed it out against the window sill, and then threw it out. "How do you keep getting in here, anyway? I just had another lock installed. It's supposed to be bastard-proof."
As he muttered, he busied himself by going around and opening all of the other windows. Clark wanted nothing more than to slump down into his chair and lose himself in paperwork, but he knew better than to show a weakness. It would be like tossing a bucket of blood into a bay of sharks. No, he'd have to hang on; at least, until he got rid of Wayne.
Bruce looked at his empty fingers confusedly before shaking it off, sitting in one of the two guest chairs in front of Kent's desk and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "That's why I keep a lockpick in the heel of my shoe," he said, motioning vaguely downward at one of his highly expensive leather shoes.
Whether or not that was actually the truth he left unsaid, rifling through a folder he had brought with him and tossed down unceremoniously on the desk upon entering. After sifting through all of the potato chip wrappers and twizzlers, he found the lung scans he wanted and all but threw them at Kent.
Clark scowled at him, then sat at his desk, putting his long legs up on the mahogany. "If you wanted a consult, you could've made an appointment like the sane people do. And no, I'm not taking you out to lunch just because you timed it perfectly."
Despite this, he grabbed the stack of MRI printouts and looked through them, one by one. "Symptoms?"
Comments 25
"Kent. Glad to see you're finally back."
Reply
He plucked the cigarette from Wayne's fingers, stubbed it out against the window sill, and then threw it out. "How do you keep getting in here, anyway? I just had another lock installed. It's supposed to be bastard-proof."
As he muttered, he busied himself by going around and opening all of the other windows. Clark wanted nothing more than to slump down into his chair and lose himself in paperwork, but he knew better than to show a weakness. It would be like tossing a bucket of blood into a bay of sharks. No, he'd have to hang on; at least, until he got rid of Wayne.
Reply
Whether or not that was actually the truth he left unsaid, rifling through a folder he had brought with him and tossed down unceremoniously on the desk upon entering. After sifting through all of the potato chip wrappers and twizzlers, he found the lung scans he wanted and all but threw them at Kent.
"Thoughts?"
Reply
Despite this, he grabbed the stack of MRI printouts and looked through them, one by one. "Symptoms?"
Reply
Leave a comment