Chapter Text
It’s too fucking early for this shit.
It’s not even nine in the morning, and already, she has a patient in North 12 who, by God’s greatest will has managed to shove an entire carrot up their nose.
“Okay, uh – why did you shove the carrot up your nose?”
“It was a bet.” The man has at least some decency to look a little bit shameful about the entire thing, apparently only coming to the conclusion that shoving a carrot up your nose wasn’t exactly ideal for patient or doctor alike, but apparently only when the object is in…foreign areas.
Trinity tries her best to not let out a sigh, once again being shown the idiocy of the human race in her day-to-day life as an emergency medicine doctor. God, why did she even take this job up at this point? Maybe she should’ve just gotten a sugar mommy or something instead.
“Right. Well, considering the magnitude of what’s shoved up your nose I can’t use any tweezers or other tools, so you’re going to have to work with me to try and blow this out of your nose.” Trinity tells the man as she pulls a chair over so she can sit in front of the patient.
She snaps some gloves on whilst she silently prays to herself that she won’t get any snot on herself from the guy. She really did not need that this morning.
“Are you sure that’s gonna work?” The man eyes her a bit skeptically as he says it, looking like he was about to shit his pants. At least she got free entertainment and a story to tell later.
“I think my debt will speak for itself.” Trinity deadpans to her patient, face blank as she stares at him, knowing it’ll shut the guy up.
She moves her hands towards his face, steadying her pointer and middle finger against his obstructed nostril and pushing down on it just enough for his nostril to temporarily close.
“Now I need you to blow out of your nose.”
The patient, thankfully, does as was instructed and not very long later a whirr of orange flies past them. Yep, way too much force: she can feel the snot on her glove.
“Don’t think you’ll be using that for dinner anytime soon.” Trinity murmurs absentmindedly to herself as she works her gloves off, snapping them off by the wrists and tossing them into a bin nearby.
The man is now looking up at her like she’s god sent or something stupid, clearly not having enjoyed his time spent with a very faithful vegetable.
“Thank you so much Doc.” He gratefully thanks Trinity, a small smile on his face as he says it – God, the guy reminded her of Whittaker last year when he was all awkward and shit.
“Come in with a pineapple next time.” She says to the guy dryly, leaving North 15 behind her as she trails into the hallway, already dreading having to write his chart or any upcoming ones.
Not to mention Dr. Al-Hashimi was always on her ass about ‘late charts’ and ‘timely documentation’. At least she wasn’t entirely terrible, though: not that she’d admit that if anyone asked. Sure, she probably had some sort of weird undiscovered kink about contracts and AI, but she was more mentally stable than Robby was. Didn’t yell at anyone yet too, she supposed. Still a legal freak.
She settles down into a chair at the nursing station with a sigh, rubbing at her temples tiredly for a moment.
“You okay kid?” Dana asks her, eyes roaming her worriedly live a mother hen looking after their baby chick.
“Yep – just the usual numbskulls in the E.R.” Trinity muses out as she leans back in her chair, easily slipping into the snarky piece of shit everyone in the Pitt knew her as. It was easy, to slip into the role.
Dana just lets out an amused little chuckle in response, shaking her head slightly with that fondness she treated everyone with. It was impossible to not like Dana – she was one of those people who everyone was at least friendly with, probably due to her whole ‘hardass but a softie’ nature.
“Uh-huh, well, Al-Hashimi was looking for you earlier.”
Trinity doesn’t even bother to suppress the small groan that leaves her mouth as she drags a hand over her face in silent exasperation: it was no secret that the attending had a particular fondness for reminding Trinity constantly of her bedside manner with patients or the way she completed charts the slowest out of all the residents.
She begrudgingly rises from the chair, already knowing she’ll undoubtedly stay after shift to deal with charts anyway so it wasn’t like mattered if she didn’t do them now.
“Where is she now?” Trinity asks tiredly, not even bothering to hide the bother in her tone as she turns to Dana, fixing her a small glare when she takes note of the smirk on her face. Traitor.
“West 5.” Dana supplies easily, fixing her gaze on the board instead of Trinity and immediately barking out questions about which patients could be discharged at any doctor mingling around the nursing station.
She practically drags her feet against the white floors of the hospital, sneakers making tiny squeaks occasionally as she walks over to West 5, already mentally preparing herself for whatever telling off she’s going to get from the attending now. Or ‘professional steering’, as Al-Hashimi liked to call it. Always the fancy terminology with her.
She knocks on the door of West 5, noting that Dr. Al-Hashimi was currently talking to a patient (phone laying down, probably recording with her AI app), and she pushes the door open standing in the doorway, noting how both women immediately avert their gazes to Trinity. God, she would never get used to having eyes on her when she enters a patient room. It always made her skin feel prickly.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi, I heard you asked for me?” she asks, hand still holding onto the door handle as she leans her right side into the door, awaiting a response.
“Ah, Dr. Santos, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Al-Hashimi returns smoothly, muttering a swift apology to her patient and an assurance she’ll be back in a minute before she stands up and exits the room, Trinity following behind her and walking to where Al-Hashimi takes them in the hallway. Yep, she was definitely going to have some sort of talk with her purely based off of how she’d urged them both into a quieter space.
Trinity always dreaded when a superior had to have a talk with her – anybody else would probably say it was cause of her trauma with authoritative figures, but Trinity liked to let herself believe it was just because of how boring the talks usually were, typically just outlining mistakes she’d made, that they were disappointed in her, blah, blah. Boring.
“I am aware that you and Dr. Langdon have some unresolved problems in the workplace?” The way she words it – careful, concise and contained is what sets Trinity off. Dr. Al-Hashimi is watching her, careful in the same way a person is when approaching a dog with a history of biting.
She doesn’t like that look.
Not at all. It’s slightly different then when she looks at Santos, because she always has had an intense stare in the short week and a half that Trinity has gotten to know the attending. She had always been wary of people with staring problems, they tended to be extra involved in matters that didn’t quite particularly concern them.
“We’re fine. We work together fine.” She returns sharply, words laced with a small sort of bite to them, because if Al-Hashimi expected her to bite, who was she to not meet expectations?
Her attending’s eyebrows raise just ever so slightly and a slight upturn of her mouth appears, as it always does when the attending is particularly amused at a certain comment or alike.
“Good. Then I’m sure you’ll be fine if I put you on some cases with Langdon, yes?”
She doesn’t even give her time for a reply. Al-Hashimi is already turning on her heel by the time Trinity’s brain even registers the words, and her mouth is left agape in slight shock as she watches the retreating figure. No. Fucking. Way. Did attending intelligence just fucking make her work with Langdon? Prick who yelled at her on her first day, publicly berated her, Langdon?
When she returns to the nursing station Dana is already informing her of what room to head to so she can partner up with good ‘ol buddy Langdon like batman and robin. Fuck her. Note to self: attending whom you briefly considered attractive when you first spotted her is actually out to get you, and basically telling her to go shove a stick where the sun don’t shine. Wonderful connections she was making with co-workers lately, it seems.
She doesn’t know how she’s going to make it through the day. Fourth of July was shitty, and she still hasn’t fully recovered from whatever it is she can call that shift from hell. It seemed that lately, the universe had been entirely against her with its persistent endeavors in harassing Trinity and anything she tried to accomplish.
She’s starting to think that maybe she should just stop trying to increase her patient satisfaction scores like Al-Hashimi was so intent on her doing, because it wasn’t like the attending was being any nicer to her anyway!
Carrot guy seemed fine with her earlier comments anyway, so what’d it matter?
She passes Perlah on her way to West 5, and Trinity must look absolutely mortified or something because the nurse actually turns to Trinity with one of those sort of ‘what the fuck happened here?’ looks on her face.
“Anong nangyari sayo? Parang may sumuka sayo.” What happened to you? You look like someone threw up on you.
“Ang pagdalo ay naglagay sa akin sa mga kaso kay Langdon. Gusto mo pa bang bigyan ko siya ng oras?” The attending put me on cases with Langdon. You still want me to give her time? Trinity returns back, a scowl on her face as she says it.
No doubt this will travel around the Pitt gossip mill thanks to her telling Perlah, but she’s too frustrated with the whole situation to care at this point. Besides, everyone already knew about her and Langdon’s supposed ‘beef’ as Dr. Ellis liked to constantly refer to it.
“Putangina. Good luck, Santos.” Perlah says to her with a pat on her shoulder as she walks past, returning to her own work around the department
She just lets out a small sigh of agreement towards Perlah’s comment, knowing fully well she’d be needing that luck if she was working with Langdon of all people. The thing that upset her the most, though? He was a good doctor. To anyone else there was apparently no reason for Trinity to hate Frank, or for Frank to hate her. They didn’t know what happened. Didn’t know Frank’s addiction being exposed was in reality, all her fault.
Only Robby did, and he was away on sabbatical now and either way he wasn’t exactly feeling too friendly recently.
She makes it to West 5, and decides that she might as well wait for Langdon to finish his case before bestowing the awful news upon him. Besides, she would take the opportunity to spend less time with him in a heartbeat.
When he walks out after discharging his patient it takes him a moment to even realize Trinity is there, and even then he kind of freezes up for a moment, eyes immediately darting around like he wasn’t sure if it was really her in front of him, and if so, why.
“Dr. Santos.” Langdon greets, his voice laced with skepticism as he eyes her like a bomb about to detonate right in front of him.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi put me on cases with you.” She immediately explains, not wanting Langdon to think that she actually accepted his half-assed apology or, even worse, wanted his advice or to be friends with him. Eugh.
She doesn’t bother to waste another moment and just explains for him to lead the way for whatever case they’d be doing next, eager to just get this shift done and dusted by now. He still looks wary of Santos, but alas, starts to head over to South 3 where they’d be working on a 23 year old male with a 2nd degree burn.
“Hello, Mr. Connors, I am Dr. Langdon, and this,” he points to Trinity. “is Dr. Santos.” He introduces both of them, not bothering to give her a chance to speak. Whatever, she didn’t like to do the talking anyway.
“Where’s the burn?” Langdon asks, already gloving up and gesturing for Santos to do the same.
She puts the gloves on, only because she wasn’t one to disobey direct orders from a senior in front of a patient. She’d do it anywhere else, sure, because everyone in the E.R knew they didn’t get along anyway and already expected it.
Mr. Connors straightens up in the patient bed, fixing his posture like people typically tend to do when they realise someone is actually paying attention to them.
“It’s on my wrist. I burnt my hand on the stove.”
The patient pulls off the white cloth that had been covering his wrist, immediately revealing a not very nice-looking burn.
“Dang – that’s gonna be a gnarly scar.” Trinity quips with a small whistle upon seeing the red skin and many blisters covering the man’s wrist, some of it looking white and overly dry, further notifying her suspicions that it was going to leave a pretty fucked-up scar.
Langdon shoots her a glare as he sits down in the stool beside the patient’s bed, clearly not a very fierce advocate for her manners with patients either, it seems. She’s surprised he doesn’t actually make some sharp retort about it though, instead just continuing to ask the patient some questions about the burn. He totally would’ve, ten months ago.
Nope. Trinity didn’t need to go thinking that Langdon had actually changed a bit, because he was still an asshole to her.
“Okay, Dr. Santos, I’ll let you work this burn.” Langdon announces easily, rising from the stool and extending his hand out as if to say ‘well, hurry up’.
She takes his prior spot in the stool, shooting a look to Langdon out of the corner of her eye as she begins by cleaning the area with some soap and water, barely listening as the patient starts talking about how he’d gotten the burn by trying to clean his electric stove when it was still on. Ugh, why did Langdon always have to make the patients start rambling?
She can feel Langdon’s eyes on her as she begins to gently coat the burn in some antibiotic ointment, careful to not press down on any present blisters or just generally apply too much force on a certain area.
“Do you two have any siblings, Docs?” The patient addresses both her and Langdon, and she finally looks up to start paying attention to the conversation as she begins dressing Mr. Connor’s burn with some non-stick dressing.
When Langdon doesn’t reply, seemingly busy with twisting the bracelet on his wrist she takes it upon herself to her demise, reply.
“I have two younger brothers. 12 and 15.” She answers the man’s question as she continues with her focus on wrapping the dressings, securing it with some medical tape on top.
“Gremlins, huh?” The patient asks her with a small smirk, as if knowing the answer is going to be ‘yes’, because everyone in the world found their siblings annoying as hell sometimes.
“Better than some of my co-workers.” Trinity returns with a smug smirk, standing up from her stool.
The man lets out a small chuckle, seemingly knowing she was clearly talking about Langdon with the way his eyes trail over to him where he was observing the whole interaction.
“Are you two not siblings?”
As soon as Mr. Connor’s utters those words Trinity regrets actually having indulged a patient in conversation once. Her and Langdon. Siblings. It’s laughable. So, she laughs.
“Dr. Santos is indeed not my sibling.” Langdon says to the patient, giving the man a grin as if they were both in on some secret joke. Ugh, she hated how he was actually good at his job, and was one of the people who always had happy patients afterward.
“You sure…?” The guy questions, dragging out the vowels as he darts his eyes between both of them before continuing, “I mean, you guys look eerily similar, and from what I gathered, act the same.”
“No, nope.”
“No, nada.”
Them disagreeing at the same time brings a disgusted grimace to Trinity’s face, the patient seemingly reveling in that fact, unlike either of them.
Trinity was not liking this pair up at all. Because, the patient was starting to think that they at least got along or something, and she was not liking that. She would rather have the sun explode and the earth start freezing over before she even became acquaintances with Langdon.
Thankfully, the patient doesn’t press further and instead they get to discharge him pretty quickly, South 3 freed up once more. Instead of moving onto another patient or getting to do some charting though, Langdon approaches her.
“Santos, I am not appreciating the snark you give your patients or me, along with how you seem discontent obeying orders from your senior. How come you seem so comfortable constantly blatantly disrespecting me?” The senior resident asks, a firmness in his tone as his words come out sharp.
Trinity crosses her arms, already ready for the fight that she knew was going to be coming as soon as Al-Hashimi had told her that she’d be forced to work with Langdon today.
She barks out a sharp scoff at him. “Maybe it’s because the ‘senior resident’ currently overseeing me quite literally stole benzos from this emergency department, and is not to be trusted?” She bites back in a sharp whisper, careful for her words to not be heard but still delivering them with a sharp blow.
Thankfully, she seems to sink her teeth in deep enough, because Langdon just kind of looks stumped for a moment. Unfortunately, he still fights back despite that.
“You are the only person in this department who seems to crawl under my skin like you do. You are brash, unfiltered, and entirely uncompliant in a position which requires you to do so. I went to rehab for ten months and actually fixed my issue. You, however? You remain an uncooperative resident. I have apologized to you, and I am willing to try again, because I am trying to correct prior mistakes. Your own sins remain the same, Santos. I may not be as trustworthy as before, but how trustworthy are you?”
Oh, wow, okay. The dipshit actually had the nerve to talk down to her as if she was the drug addict out of the two of them, as if she stole drugs from patients and put their lives at risk. So what if she was a little ‘brash’, though? It wasn’t like you had to be all soft and empathetic like Mel if you wanted to be a doctor. And she wasn’t, so she made do with what she had. As she has always done.
She’d always known he was full of himself, but for him to blatantly state that he thought the trust he had had was better than anything she’d built? That was fucking idiotic.
“And you are an egotistical prick of a doctor who doesn’t even bother to teach his residents, instead choosing to berate and pick them apart in front of the entire E.D because you are incapable of doing what you are told like a mature adult. You may be able to save a patient quicker or better than I am able to, but for how long will that stay true, Dr. Langdon?”
Trinity spits back with as much ferocity as she can muster, determining that hey, at least she might be able to burn out her frustrations this way. How frustrated she was with life and all its fuckups. How she’d ruined whatever morsels of a relationship she and Garcia had had, how Dennis had moved out of their apartment and rented out a small place instead with his new salary, and had now left her to a quiet apartment.
How, ever time that she came home after a long shift the quiet she wasn’t used to anymore reminded her of how silent it had been after her friend’s death, how it just brought out every thought she’d tried to keep submerged in her mind was brought up, and suddenly, she was thinking of cool metal and copper blood and her body already carved out with every bad memory she’d ever felt, and what was more line added to roads mapped across everywhere?
They both just end up staring at each other with furrowed brows and chests heaving slightly, Frank’s mouth agape like he was preparing himself for another onslaught on words to decimate Santos, and Trinity with her mouth twisted and furled into a gruesome curve of her mouth, her ugly emotions on display like a zoo animal for all the word to witness in their exhibit.
Since, what was Trinity’s natural habitat if not for the state of anger she constantly found herself winding up in, entangling herself further into the web of emotion? See, Trinity liked it think she wasn't an emotional person, but she knew she was. She was quick to get angry, and it took her a while to stop being angry.
So, that’s why she decides to just walk away today. For her sake, more than Franks’. She turns on her heel, deciding that she needed to get one last word in. Prove she was not going to be friendly with Langdon - that she would not stoop to a level as low as that.
“Oh, and, fuck you.” She says, turning around for a moment to face him as she says it, looking him directly in the eye with an unwavering confidence before she ultimately walks off.
She turns into the women’s bathroom, deciding that’ll be her only option to actually get a moments peace with full clarification that Langdon cannot bother her.
She moves into a stall with the door still swinging behind her, entering the stall and locking the door as she drops down onto the toilet seat with a heavy sigh, knocking her head into her hands and letting out a loud, tired groan. She was so done with everything. She just wanted to go home and bury herself into an unhealthy amount of beer and whiskey (she’d recently gotten back into the habit of drinking, with Whittaker gone).
There was another part of her body just screaming at her to grab a scalpel off the suture cart too, to let the metal meet the skin across her thighs and provide her with the rush of relief she often got, able to finally place her thoughts on the pain she’d feel radiating in the cuts instead of the swirl of thoughts in her brain, looming around the frontal lobe all the way to her cerebellum.
But, she didn’t want to be like Langdon.
If she just fell back into her own addiction just as Langdon had done then who was she to criticize him? She knew her cutting was a problem, probably the same way Langdon knew him taking benzos was a problem. She was determined to not fall into the throes of addiction – her friend had told her to keep living for the both of them in the letter she’d left after killing herself. So, she would live to her fullest potential. Throw herself into work, forget about anything else.
She takes only another two minutes in the bathroom, taking a breather before she exits the bathroom and returns back to treating patients with one Frank Langdon at her side, tensions running high all throughout – she was careful when moving around him, not to touch his body at all. Frank was too, both of them unwilling to make contact with the other at all costs. This caused a few stares from patients, but she mainly paid no mind to them. She didn’t really care what they thought after that guy thought her and Langdon were siblings.
She doesn’t get to hop on any traumas that day either, stuck just tending to patients with boredom in her body accompanying the frustration that prickled her skin every time Langdon tried to act as if nothing happened, or tried to joke with her or a patient.
She’s thankful, at least, that Langdon doesn’t stay too long after shift. He only stays after for another half-hour, probably eager to get home and play house with his deteriorating family.
So, instead she just stays charting at the nurses station, talking into that stupid microphone as she fights to stay awake instead of falling asleep entirely at her desk.
“Dr. Santos.” The voice is low and right in her ear, and she can’t help the instinctive jump of her body as she startles.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi.” Trinity returns, careful to pronounce the woman’s name right just as she had always done for her, annoying habits of her being on her ass about charting and pairing her up with Langdon aside. She turns her chair around to face the woman, who’s looking down at her with that usual searching stare of hers.
“It’s already an hour after shift, you should go home.” Al-Hashimi tells her, already noting that it was eight in the evening and there had been no particularly dreary cases today so the resident should probably go home.
The attending speaks in the typical careful cadence of her voice Trinity has come accustomed to, mainly because of how many times she had been reminded to not get behind on her charts with that exact same tone.
“Can’t. Charting.” Trinity just supplies with a simple shrug of her shoulders, figuring that Al-Hashimi is unable to argue with her about that considering how often she complained about Trinity’s slowness with that exact issue.
She spins back around in her chair, turning back to the computer screen since she deemed the conversation finished at that point.
Instead, a hand comes down onto her shoulder, searing into her shoulder at the point of contact. A melodic voice meets the shell of her ear, and Trinity unknowingly has her left hand clench around the arm rest on the chair.
“I’m sure I can excuse charting for one shift in concern of burnout in my resident instead.” Al Hashimi rises from where she was bent down beside Trinity’s ear, fixing her a smile before she walks off, hips swaying as she walks with that fixed finality.
She can’t help but stare as she walks away, eyes fixed on the movement of her attending’s body before she snaps out of it. She elicits to finish her current chart and one more for good measure, meaning she would only be about five charts behind tomorrow: an all time low.
She finishes up fifteen minutes later, heading to the lockers and throwing over her usual grey hoodie with blue stripes, slinging her canvas bag over her shoulder before she puts her earbuds in, welcoming the sound of music ringing throughout her ears instead of intensive beeping of monitors or the yells of her senior attending.
She exits the hospital, sneakers thudding against the concrete of the parking lot ground as she makes her way to her car – it’s a used Subaru outback she’d picked up off some sketchy ass website, surprisingly, without getting murdered.
She unlocks the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, throwing her backpack into the front seat and just letting her head fall against her wheel for a moment, enjoying the small moment of silence for a few minutes.
After that she starts up her car (it takes a little to get it going), and drives back to her apartment. The drive back is quiet, as she doesn’t even bother to turn the radio on, enjoying the quiet for once instead of worrying about it too much. That would be for later.
She parks her car in the lot in front of her apartment building, thankful the spot had just come with the apartment instead of her having to pay extra. She grabs her bag, pushing it onto her shoulder as she gets out the car.
Her face meeting the cold night air once more is nice, because it reminds her that she is actually here. On earth and indeed alive and kicking.
She starts walking up to her apartment building, but stops when she hears some rustling in the alleyway beside. Now, typically she wouldn’t look but Trinity has had a long fucking day and honestly doesn’t care if somebody mugs her now.
She elects to walk into the alleyway, eyes immediately searching around the area and finding a whole lot of…nothing, to be precise. She cannot pinpoint where the sound is coming from anymore because it suddenly stopped, and there’s no people here or anything. Huh, maybe it’d just been a rat. Huckleberry would’ve loved to catch that.
“Mrow.”
Trinity hears the sound of a meow, and before she can register anything else there is a teeny tint body rubbing up against her ankles, rubbing its furry cheek into her, small tail curling around Trinity’s ankles as it circles her.
“Oh. Hey, dude.” Trinity mumbles quietly, crouching down to the cat and scratching its chin a bit. Her mother never allowed her to have pets going up, mainly because she had Trinity young and couldn’t deal with more on her plate at that point.
Her lola though, she remembers she’d had an old calico cat that loved throwing up furballs on the sofa in the living room. She remembers feeding the cat a shit ton of treats when she was still pretty young and unaware that she wasn’t supposed to feed that many to an animal. The cat threw up on her later, but in return it also started loving her more.
“Y’know, I could use a new roommate.” She whispers out to the cat, picking the tiny black kitten up by under its armpits, staring at it as green-eyes just blink at her, purring contentedly in her hands.
She makes a decision then to take the cat home, wrapping it up in a spare hoodie she kept in her bag and taking it up the lift to her apartment, letting it run wild once she enters her apartment. She knew she should probably condition it with the bathroom or whatever first, but the booger seems pretty happy to just run around her apartment as is.
She finds a pretty low-levelled bowl and fills it with water for the cat, figuring it’s probably thirsty since she found it in an alleyway, likely abandoned by someone or a street animal. She doesn’t have any food though, so she kind of just stares down at the little void orb with her hands on her hips as she watches it lap up the water. She can give it some tuna or something, right? Yeah, she’ll just do that.
She grabs some canned tuna from her otherwise empty fridge, scooping an acceptable amount for a kitten out onto a plate before settling it down beside the cat’s food bowl, watching it eat like it had three seconds to finish all the food.
“I should probably name you, huh?” Trinity muses out to the small animal, watching as it lifts its head up at her, big green eyes just kind of staring at her closely again – God, the cat had a stare to rival her attending’s. Maybe it would start meowing about her paying her bills soon, too.
“I’m naming you Robo.” Trinity declares proudly, figuring that her attending’s obsession with artificial intelligence would be a funny dedication to name her cat. She wasn’t exactly going to let her new kitten suffer with the name choice of ‘AI’, so this would be as good as it gets.
Robo just kind of looks up at her with as much of a disgusted face as it seems he can muster, meowing loudly at her before walking away, food plate left cleanly licked. She’d actually have to go shopping tomorrow, since she had no way to feed the little booger.
Her evening continues in a similar fashion, with her trying to wash Robo off, and finding out pretty quickly that the kitten started meowing uncontrollably when placed in water, even if he showed no discomfort of actually being in the water. Yeah, cats were weird as hell. After that Trinity makes herself some instant ramen for dinner, eating before both her and Robo get into her bed, Robo settling down onto her chest right under her chin, his nose practically touching with hers.
He’s loafed out atop her, so she’s dragging her pointer finger down his spine slowly, feeling the bones of his tiny body as she pets him, the little goofball purring on her so intensely that she can feel the vibrations all throughout her body.
“Goodnight, Robo.”