Contrary to popular belief, the emergency room wasn't anything like it was made out to be on TV. Ryan blamed shows like [i]Grey's Anatomy[/i] for making people think that doctors and nurses had that kind of time between patients to use the on-call room for anything but sleeping. It had been quite a long time since Ryan had even been on a date, and work kept him so busy that he didn't even have time to try. Unfortunately, that was the price he had to pay for his profession, and Ryan was mostly happy with the job and the people and he knew that he had done a lot of good in his time since medical school. It just got lonely sometimes, mostly when he had a rare day off and realized there was literally nothing for him to do.

It was the beginning of a new shift, and Ryan had just finished signing in before he began to make his rounds. There were a few high-priority patients already in the ER and he was taking over for the attending who had just gotten off. With one asthma attack, and one suspected heart attack, Ryan already sort of had his hands full. After writing scripts, giving breathing treatments and getting the paperwork together for admittance, there was finally a small break in the day. Ryan went to get himself the first of many cups coffee, wanting to stay ahead of his fatigue before it started to catch up with him around sunset.

“Doctor,” a frazzled-looking nurse said, “there's an EMT coming in for a concussion check. Something about a frying pan.”

Ryan raised his eyebrow. “A frying pan?” That wasn't something he heard every day. He assumed that the EMT would need to be signed off on, and he didn't mind seeing to the problem himself. “I'll go down to the ambulance bay. You go check the status of that asthma attack, see if she's doing any better.” 

Tossing his empty cup in the trash, Ryan made his way toward the ambulance bay. He wasn't expecting to see the same EMT from the night before, but he wasn't complaining when he laid eyes on Travis once again. “Frying pan, huh?” he asked, smiling softly when he saw the man's partner helping him with the gauze. Obviously, this wasn't just a bump on the head and not something Ryan could have signed off on quickly in order to get these two back to work. Travis could have needed stitches, or had a concussion, but there was no way to tell until he actually took a look.

“You're going to have to come inside,” he said, knowing that didn't sound promising. “You can tell me what happened on the way.”