dical Center – Interns' Changing Room
After finishing his speech, Chief of Surgery Richard Webber left the room.
The group headed to the changing room, where they put on blue scrubs and white coats, stethoscopes hanging around their necks, officially stepping into their roles as surgical interns.
In a hospital, hierarchy is strict—even attire follows specific rules.
Interns and residents wear blue scrubs, while attending physicians wear dark blue ones.
"A 48-hour shift right off the bat? That's insane."
Bianca whispered to Adam, "It's way easier in internal dicine."
"That's surgery for you," Adam replied with a grin as he adjusted his coat.
"Only six won out of twenty surgical interns? That's a bit unfriendly," redith comnted, glancing around the room.
"Has Harvard dical School reached a 1:1 gender ratio already?" Adam asked curiously.
"..." redith was montarily speechless.
In most industries, n still dominate—and the dical field is no exception. Male students still outnumber females significantly. A 14:6 ratio was already considered relatively inclusive, especially since this was general surgery, not gynecology.
Her complaint was more of an instinctive feminist reaction, but Adam's bluntness caught her off guard.
"That's nothing. One of the six won is even a model," Cristina scoffed, glancing toward Alice. "Seriously though, are we supposed to be impressed by that?"
"Alice isn't the model," Adam said with a smile. "If anyone here fits that description, it'd be her."
Following Adam's gaze, the group saw a tall, curvy blonde adjusting her hair.
"No way," Cristina said, surprised. "Aren't models supposed to be skinny and frail-looking?"
"Depends on the kind of model," Adam explained. "Those edgy high-fashion models, sure. But mainstream models usually have that classic 'tall blonde bombshell' look—it's more in line with conventional beauty standards."
"And how do you know so much about this?" redith asked with a teasing smile.
"I dabble," Adam replied modestly.
"Of course, he would know. Billionaires always do," Cristina remarked, her gaze shifting from Alice to the blonde bombshell, then to Bianca, redith, and finally herself in the mirror. Her tone turned a little sarcastic.
"Our group's really sothing. A billionaire turning doctor, a bunch of gorgeous won—it's like we're starring in a dical drama, Our Days or sothing."
"You watch Our Days too?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. "So, what do you think of Dr. Derek Lamore?"
At the ntion of Derek's na, redith froze for a second.
"He's hot but kind of dumb. I an, let's be real—he'd never cut it as a doctor in real life," Cristina judged.
"Ha!" Adam couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"The actor who plays Derek Lamore is Adam's friend—Joey Tribbiani," Bianca explained.
"Really?" Cristina looked genuinely surprised. TV actors always seed so far removed from regular life, but considering Adam was a billionaire author, it made sense.
"Can I ask you sothing about Joey?"
"Go ahead," Adam replied with a grin.
"When he's talking and suddenly stops, tilting his head like he's deep in thought—did he forget his lines?"
"That's called the 'Sll-the-Fart' acting technique," Adam chuckled. "It's what actors do to buy ti when they blank on their lines."
"I knew it!" Cristina smirked. "How'd he even land the role? You'd think an important supporting character could at least morize his lines."
"Hehe." Adam dodged the question with another one. "You think he ca up with the technique on his own? Nah, he learned it from the pros."
How did Joey get the role? Connections, of course—but that wasn't sothing he needed to share.
"Okay, Martin, Robinson, Bond, Hawkins!"
A hospital staff mber began assigning interns to groups.
Four interns quickly stepped forward and followed instructions to et their resident supervisors.
"Who are you assigned to? redith and I are with Bailey," Cristina asked.
"You too? I'm with Bailey as well," a slightly chubby guy interrupted before Adam or Bianca could respond. "At least we'll suffer together. I'm George O'Malley."
When redith and Cristina ignored him, he turned to the smiling redith. "We t at the bar last night. You were wearing a black dress with a slit and Roman sandals… And, no, I'm not gay, by the way."
"You sure about that?" Adam teased. "Most straight guys don't notice those details."
Sure, n check out won from head to toe—but rembering the exact style of her dress and shoes? That leaned a bit too far into ticulous territory.
"O'Malley, Yang, Grey, Stevens!" the staff mber called out.
The chubby intern quickly followed redith, while the tall blonde model also caught up with them.
"He's got so serious lady luck," Adam remarked to Bianca, watching the four walk away. "Surrounded by won—it's like being in a harem."
"You're overthinking it," Bianca chuckled. "Too many won can be a bad thing. He might not be gay now, but give it ti."
"True," Adam nodded with a grin. "If everyone starts treating him like 'one of the girls,' he might just get absorbed into the sisterhood. O'Malley seems a little soft—could be dangerous."
"And if it were you instead?" Bianca gave him a playful side-eye.
"Heh." Adam just smiled knowingly. "If it were , I'd have them joining my team, not the other way around."
"Duncan, Samson, Turk, Fowler!"
Another set of nas was called.
"Let's go," Adam motioned for Bianca to follow.
"Hey, I'm Chris Turk," a bald African-Arican guy greeted them enthusiastically. "Looks like we're all under the sa attending—the Compassion Doctor."
"Adam Duncan."
"Bianca Samson."
They both shook his hand.
"Compassion Doctor? You an Dr. Sydney Heron's nickna?" Adam asked.
"Yep," Chris grinned. "Total opposite of Bailey. Dr. Heron's super kind—loves to care for patients and colleagues alike. We're lucky."
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