The warning was hardly necessary. James had more or less assumed that Gabriel wasn't going to suddenly be his number one fan just because he had thrown down the money for the other man's morning coffee. Truthfully, James had only been trying to be a decent person, feeling that in a city like New York, true kindness was hard to come by, and he always about helping to brighten the day of someone. That urge to be a good person was part of the reason he had decided to become a doctor—his fascination with the heart came later, not until during his second year of medical school during a dissection. Since then, he had studied everything that he could on the subject, both in and out of class and he felt prepared to finally be in the hospital. It would have been nice to make friends with Gabriel, but James wanted to let his work speak for itself.

“I wouldn't expect to be treated any other way,” said James in return as he took another long drink from his cup. Hearing that Gabriel intended to pay him back, the blond man couldn't help but chuckle knowingly; he had expected that too. “Fine,” he nodded, “you owe me my next coffee, and we'll call it even.” James didn't really feel as though buying coffee for someone else was a very big deal, but with brilliant men, came large egos and James wasn't surprised by Gabriel's in the slightest.

Rocking back on his heels, James was now just waiting for the light at the crosswalk to change. He was getting excited about his first day, and was ready to meet his fellow residents and get a feel for the hospital. Of course, James was well aware that he would only be doing the grunt work for quite some time, cleaning up after the doctors, signing off on charts, tending to patients needs, but it was worth it and it was a stepping stone on the way to something better. 

As the light changed, James found himself drawn back into the conversation with Gabriel. He wore a friendly smile as they approached the hospital, the crowd around them somewhat thinning as others made their way to their appropriate destination. “I'm not sure,” he admitted, “I've just always liked helping people, and I took an anatomy class in high school that just sort of kicked everything off,” he shrugged, noting that he was almost finished with his coffee. When asked about where he was from, James was somewhat hesitant. He was always worried that someone would associate him with his father, or somehow find out his real last name.

“I'm from Connecticut,” he lied, making no mention of Washington D.C. Lying came second nature, and although James wasn't proud of it, he had to protect himself somehow. “Are you from New York originally?”